Harry Potter and the Temporal Boundary Invasions
by cosmic-cube-keeper
Summary: STOPPED, see note in ch 21! Harry defeats Tom Riddle once and for all, but with nothing to live for, he leaps through the cursed veil in the DoM. Being thrown back in time was NOT the plan, nor was being thrown across temporal boundaries!
1. I: A Plot Foiled

_*PLEASE NOTE* This story is incomplete, and will not be completed.  
_

_DISCLAIMER: The characters are not mine, nor are parts of the plot. This is written purely for my amusement, I earn nothing financially by its production.__ I give a nod to JK Rowling and Stephen King, whose sandboxes I borrow._

_Harry defeats Tom Riddle once and for all, but with nothing to live for, he leaps through the cursed veil in the DoM. Being thrown back in time was NOT the plan… Did the universe actually HATE him that much?_

_FANFICTION WARNING: Like all my fan fictions, there will be slash, and numerous crossovers, and probably a few other annoyances (at least to some readers). OOC a possibility, a very strong possibility. Live!Cedric, powerful!harry, Dark!Harry, mostly disregards books 5, 6, and 7, although touching on some concepts. Post-CotC I movie-verse, Malachai still lives…_

_CHAPTER WARNINGS: Spoilers for "Deathly Hallows", "Order of the Phoenix", "Goblet of Fire", coarse language, some violence._

_Without further adieu, I present, "Harry Potter and the Temporal Boundary Invasions"  
_

* * *

**HARRY POTTER  
****AND THE  
TEMPORAL BOUNDARY INVASIONS**

**PART I: "A WIZARD IN THE CORN"**

"...a long-hidden power once again becomes known, and the four from the one will have the power to vanquish the great threat... lead by the one who thrice vanquished the dark lord..." – Prophecy spoken by 8-year old Sarah Gilman, July 1995.

**1: A PLOT FOILED**

**Or, The end is the beginning**

"Avada kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

It sounded like a cannon blast as the green jet from the Elder Wand collided with Harry's spell, and an instant later, a very haggard Harry Potter looked down on the empty shell that had been the worst dark wizard in recent history.

He slumped down on the steps rising up to the dais upon which the veil still fluttered freely, the voices whispering from behind it. Somewhere in there, in amongst all those voices, was Sirius. "Mum, dad, I did it," he whispered, rising to his shaky feet.

There was nothing left to live for. The gaping hole in the ceiling of the death chamber said it all. Magical Britain had been for the most part obliterated, the Statute of Wizarding Secrecy breached beyond recovery. The Muggle world had suffered far greater atrocities at the hand of Voldemort. Shouts from above and out in the ruined corridor warned the Boy-Who-Lived—now very much a man, he had little time left.

He had been on the run for several years, as the patch-work Wizarding government had declared him the number one undesirable. Through their lies and manipulations, the Muggle government saw him equally as a serious threat, resulting in numerous close calls with British authorities. He remembered hearing one particular news cast, warning citizens _Do not approach, considered armed and dangerous, to contact authorities at once…_ what rubbish!

He was drawn back to the present, as the shouts became quite clear: "HARRY POTTER… DROP THE WAND AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"

'Not on your life,' Harry cursed to himself, as he approached the fluttering veil. 'Mum, dad, Cedric, Sirius, I'm coming,' he whispered, his hand almost touching the ratty fabric suspended in the arch way. The voices were speaking loudly now, although it was hard to decipher exactly what was being said, due to the number.

"HARRY POTTER. STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" came another shout, this time, from the entrance to the death chamber.

"Not on your life," said Harry again, coldly, and stepped into the fluttering veil to fade from the mortal plane.

…

Harry was unsure of what to expect stepping into the veil, but, it felt like a port key. 'Wait… what am I holding?' he thought, and dared open his eyes. 'Merlin's Balls!' Tightly in his grip was the Tri-Wizard Cup! That meant…

He was suddenly slammed into the ground, and an uncomfortable moan beside him was all the confirmation he needed.

"Did anyone tell you it was a port key?"

"What? Err, no," answered Harry, daring to look at the speaker. He had to force himself to remain composed, as green eyes locked with grey ones. "Wands out," he declared, fishing his holly wand out. He'd missed that wand. 'That foul Umbridge woman…' Cedric had already drawn his own, and both teens got to their feet cautiously. Then Harry's memories took firm hold.

"Cedric, take my arm," said Harry, trusting his instinct, "The port key was a trap!"

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me… listen, someone's coming, he'll KILL you!"

"All right, I trust you," answered Cedric, gripping Harry's arm, just as a dark shape emerged from one of the tombs. "Kill the spare," came the high, cold voice, as Harry twisted on the spot, his scar already exploding in pain. Both Tri-Wizard champions vanished with an angry CRACK which sent a flock of crows on a nearby tree flapping into the night. A bolt of green magic passed through the spot Cedric had been standing in a fraction of a second earlier, to slam into a headstone.

"NOOOO!" came a shout to the night, which fell on deaf ears.

The two teens appeared at the gates of the school, the closest either of them could get to Hogwarts by apparition. His scar was still tingling, and he quickly looked himself over to be sure he hadn't splinched himself—of course, it had been a number of years since that had been a concern. How had this happened? Why did he not just… pass on?

"Harry… you just…" Cedric began, bewildered. It pulled Harry rapidly back to the present.

"I know, I know… just, trust me, terrible things would have happened, had we stayed. If anyone asks—you know how to apparate?"

"Of course, although I have yet to actually get my license."

"If anyone asks, you apparated us back to the school… I'd rather people not know I can do so."

"Okay, Harry, but you owe me an explanation of what's going on."

"I promise you, Ced. Best we get back to the Quidditch pitch, let people know what's going on. And Cedric. Stay away from Moody, he's not who we think he is—AAAAAAAAH!" Harry's scar again flared in white-hot pain. Voldemort was beyond angry.

Harry and Cedric quickly made their way back to the Quidditch pitch, where the crowds were still gathered, waiting for the champions to return. It was a shock to everyone, as the two teens entered through the back entrance.

"Harry! How did you come to be there?" questioned Dumbledore.

"Sir, the Tri-Wizard cup was a trap, a port key. Cedric… he was almost killed… he grabbed me and—"

"Apparated us as close to the school as I could get," answered the older champion, covering for Harry.

"Professor, Voldemort tried to get his body back tonight… the entire tournament was a trap!" Harry exclaimed, fighting urges to spill more than he should know. There was a sharp intake of breath as several people close to him heard the Dark Lord's name. Cedric's father was already whispering softly to his son, while Dumbledore was eyeing Harry carefully. What had happened?

"The boys have been through an ordeal, allow me to take them back up to the castle, have them looked over by Madam Pomfrey perhaps," offered Professor Moody. He found himself staring at the business end of Harry's wand.

"You'll do well not to come within a hundred miles of me, Crouch!" Harry hissed. He'd almost slipped into speaking parseltongue. A look of shock crossed the professor's face for a fraction of a second, before he recovered. "The boy's obviously delirious," he declared.

"Prove you're not Crouch!" Harry hissed again, his hand wrapped so tightly around his wand his knuckles were turning white. "Swear to it! Swear it on your magic, here and now!"

"There's no need for that kind of behaviour toward a professor, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, standing behind the group.

"Trust me, he's no professor," Harry ground out, "Now swear it!"

"Perhaps it would be best to entertain the brat," Snape drawled. Crouch knew he was in trouble. How had the brat discovered his secret? His wand was out in a flash. 'Perhaps if I kidnap the brat—' he had no chance to finish the thought, as he was nailed with at least three stunning curses.

"I daresay, perhaps we should adjourn this to my office," said Dumbledore. It wasn't a request. "Severus, please fetch me the strongest truth serum you have, and join me in my office."(1)

The resultant meeting was truly an eye-opener, more for the staff than Harry. It was an eerie feeling, watching 'Moody' transform back into Barty Crouch, Jr. As soon as the transformation was finished, Severus forced Crouch's mouth open, administered three drops of Veritaserum, and the group waited for it to take effect. Dumbledore finally pointed his wand at the impostor. "Rennervate!(2)"

Crouch's son opened his eyes. His face was slack, his gaze unfocused. Dumbledore knelt before him, so that their faces were level.

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked quietly. The man's eyelids flickered. "Yes," he muttered.

"Where is Alastor Moody?"

"In his trunk in my office."

The questioning continued while Professor McGonagall went to Moody's office, to free the real Alastor Moody. Harry was at war with himself mentally, so not to reveal too much of what he knew. How was it possible, that he had come back to this time with all his knowledge and memories intact? A twenty-six year old mind in a fourteen-going-on-fifteen-year-old body? 'Bloody hell, I'm gonna go spare!'

A more interesting revelation came when Crouch was questioned regarding the meeting at the beginning of the year.

"Yes, Pettigrew was there," answered Crouch, when asked about whether a certain rat had been present. Further questions revealed the true miscarriage of justice.

"That… that means… oh dear Merlin…" Fudge was astounded at the revelation.

"Yes, Minister, an innocent man was sent to rot in Azkaban for twelve fucking years," Harry spat.

"Mr. Potter! You will NOT use such language!" McGonagall scolded harshly.

"S-sorry. But I have to ask the Minister, what he intends to do about it."

"And what stake might you have in Mr. Black's case, Potter?" questioned Fudge, sourly. 'If this hits the Prophet, heads will roll,' he thought, 'probably starting with mine.'

"Maybe the tiny little fact he's my godfather," Harry shot back, "What, did you think I wouldn't know that? There are some people around here that make an attempt at being honest with me. I'll spell it out so there can't be any misunderstanding. I have a job to do. Either help me to do it, or stay out of my way. That means, no secrets. No manipulations. No tricks."

"What are you implying, Harry?" questioned Dumbledore, uneasily. 'It's too soon,' he thought, 'The boy cannot know the secret just yet!'

"I think you know, sir. I asked you at the end of first year, in the hospital wing. Why did Voldemort want to kill me? So now I'm asking again. I have a RIGHT to know what I'm fighting."

"Harry, I do agree with you, however, at this very moment is not quite the time for that kind of discussion. If you will give me a few days. I promise you we shall meet again before the end of term, so you may get answers to some of your questions."

"I will hold you to it, sir."

"For now, let's get you down for a check up with Madam Pomfrey," McGonagall decided, "Since it appears we have gained all the information we will from Mr. Crouch." Harry nodded, and made his way to the door. He was about to open it, but stopped. "Oh, and by the way, Minister," Harry spoke, taking his hand off the door handle, "You might want to keep the Dementors away from Barty here, I would like to see him get a proper trial." His unspoken warning carried strongly in his voice.

The Hospital wing was still slightly busy, with the other three champions still in beds, being looked after by the resident healer. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory were crowded around their son's bed, looking more than relieved Cedric was okay. 'That was an understatement,' he thought to himself. He realized then and there, it was one of the things that truly broke him—that, and the death of Sirius, with the death of Dumbledore a close third. The thing was, 'what now?' Everything he knew of the previous timeline… likely went completely out the window. Voldemort had not been able to regain a body. Cedric was still alive. Most importantly, Fudge knew of Pettigrew's treachery.

"I was wondering when to expect you, Harry," said Madam Pomfrey, "You may take that bed." She pointed to a bed between Cedric's and the real Alastor Moody.

"Will… will he be okay?" questioned Harry, gesturing to the sleeping man.

"He'll be just fine," answered the matron, handing him a pair of pyjamas, and pulling the screen around the bed. Just then, he heard the door to the hospital wing open, and voices burst into the room.

"Harry?" 'Of course, Hermione,' Harry thought to himself. He had sorely missed her for the past few years; she was one of the first of his close friends to be taken by Voldemort.

"Over here, guys," Harry called.

A crowd of bodies made their way around the curtain. Most of the Weasleys were there, as was Hermione, and a large black dog. He wasted no time leaping up onto the bed, looking at Harry expectantly. Seeing the faces of his dear friends, and those he considered family brought a broad smile to his face. In fact, thinking of the current situation, for a fleeting moment, he felt like the cat who had caught the canary.

The early hours of the next morning, Harry felt someone settle down beside him in the bed; he didn't need to wonder who it was, as an arm snaked across his torso. He let out a sigh, and did not wake again until the light was streaming through the windows.

While Harry slept, Albus Dumbledore was still wide awake, sitting in his office, having viewed the memory of the evening's event at least three times in the pensieve. Something had changed in Harry, something profound. Something which had nothing to do with the unscheduled port key trip to Little Hangleton—he had sent some of his most trusted friends to investigate—no, something had changed Harry. It would be imperative to have that discussion sooner rather than later, Dumbledore decided. Fawkes, the bright red phoenix resting on his perch seemed to agree, letting out a pleasant trill. "Yes, I know, we must have his trust, Fawkes. What he wants to know is something I had really hoped I could hold off for perhaps one more year."

"You'll do no good keeping the boy in the dark forever, Albus," the portrait of Armando Dippet scolded, "You're handling young Potter in a similar way to that of Riddle; surely one Dark Lord is enough."

"Harry will never turn to the dark arts," said Dumbledore, with conviction, "His capacity to love will never allow it." He collected the memory floating in the pensieve back into a vial, then dumped the contents of yet another. The memory which he was most reluctant to show Harry. It was the one thing that set everything into motion. Just then, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in, Minerva," said Albus. The door opened, revealing the deputy headmistress. "It seems I am not the only one up in the wee hours of the morning."

"Indeed, Albus. I've just come from the hospital wing. The Diggory boy wasted no time deserting his own bed to share Potter's."

"Is that so?" questioned Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling again. Of course he knew all about the two champions' numerous rendezvous after hours. He was the headmaster after all.

"It would have been a true disaster, had one of them been killed," McGonagall declared, "I don't need to spell it out, do I?"

"No, of course not. It's only by Mr. Diggory's quick reaction they escaped. I do believe there will be a few adjustments to house points in light of last night's events, yes."

"Oh, Albus, I don't think we should be worrying about house points and the like, considering the dark implications. How could you not have known one of your most trusted friends was in fact a Death Eater?"

"It's something I have trouble answering, Minerva. And, it's something that will not happen again. Perhaps I need to revise a few procedures for the staff, in light of this error on my part."

"It's best you do. I really do not wish to take on your responsibilities full-time. I do have one question. Did you notice the change in Potter's behaviour? I was quite taken aback hearing him use such dreadful language earlier, in front of the Minister, no less. What are your thoughts on this?"

"Somewhat. He seems to have suddenly developed a bit of an edge. I'm certainly puzzled as to what might have brought it on."

"I've not known Potter to take that sort of tone, at least not against one of us. In hindsight, he was right, but, how did he know it wasn't Moody?" questioned McGonagall.

"I ask the same question. Perhaps when I meet with him, I will be sure to ask. Information, after all, is a two way street, is it not? Lemon drop?" Dumbledore offered, gesturing to the candy dish resting on the corner of the desk, from which he plucked a candy.

When Harry next woke, a smile crept onto his face. Not only was Sirius curled up at the foot of the bed as Padfoot, his Animagus form, Cedric had climbed into his bed as well, and now lay beside Harry, an arm draped across his chest as though to protect the younger boy. 'Younger boy?' Harry almost snorted, 'Bloody hell, how did this happen?' he thought to himself. What would Hermione say? What would Dumbledore think? 'No,' Harry thought, 'There are a good number of people who can't ever know what's happened.' Yet, how was he going to explain the previous night's actions to Cedric? Yes, it was going to be an uncomfortable conversation. 'Then again,' thought Harry, 'If I can't trust Cedric, who CAN I trust?' He dug into his recent memories, quickly sorting out the events of the previous evening—he would have done so much sooner, had Madam Pomfrey not dosed him with a strong dreamless sleep potion.

It had taken him several years to fully grasp Occlumency and its reciprocal, Legilimency. Sure, the art was heavily-restricted by the Ministry, but that had never stopped Harry before, considering that, beginning the middle of what would have been his fifth year, he became a fugitive. The Ministry pursued him relentlessly, and far worse once Voldemort took over. He knew more than a few dark curses, each one of them would make his friends or the Order cringe.

Harry was woken up by someone gently prodding at his ribs. "Harry, mate…"

"Mmmm?" He moaned, then smiled as Cedric's face filled his vision.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better, now," answered Harry.

"Can we talk?"

"Now's as good a time as any." Harry gestured with his hand. At Cedric's curious glance, he said, "Privacy charm."

"Wandless?"

"Uh huh. One of a few things I can do now. Cedric, something happened to me, last night… when we were port keyed out of the maze."

"So I noticed."

"I need a wizard's oath that you won't reveal what I'm about to tell you to anyone." He nudged the large black dog at his feet. "You too, Padfoot… I know you're listening." The dog seemed to make a sigh, hopped off the bed, and transformed back into Sirius. "What…"

"The oath first, please, both of you."

"All right," his godfather nodded, producing his wand. "I, Sirius Orion Black, swear on my magic, that I shall not reveal any of the following conversation to anyone for any reason." A swirl of golden magic wafted from Sirius' chest, to hover over Harry's head.

"So mote it be."

Once Cedric gave his oath, Harry gave an abbreviated and highly edited account of the future, earning more than a few shocked looks from his boyfriend and his godfather. He hated to admit it, but it just wouldn't be safe telling Ron or Hermione, at least not at this point. As loyal as they were, as the old saying goes, 'loose lips sink ships'. Even though he could get a magical oath from them, the fewer people who knew, the better.

Just then, he felt the ward he had erected around the screen vibrate—someone had just entered the hospital wing. With a quick gesture from his hand, he banished the privacy charm and the ward. "Mischief managed," he whispered.

"What was that for?"

"It ends the conversation covered by your oaths," answered Harry. Moments later, the screen parted and Madam Pomfrey appeared. Sirius had once again changed into Padfoot, but Harry could swear the dog was grinning at the use of the Marauders' secret code. The matron pursed her lips at the sight of the two boys cuddled in one bed.

"I should have known I would find the both of you in one bed. Up you get, the both of you. I don't believe I need to keep either of you here any longer," she declared, gesturing at both teens with her wand. She nodded, then left the screen.

The ride back to London was much better than the first time around, as Cedric now sat in the compartment with Harry and his two closest friends. A sack of coins rested between them, but a decision had already been made on what to do with it. Harry had wanted to put a strong locking charm on the door, but that would prevent the twins from visiting. No, he would allow Malfoy and his cronies to visit as well—not that he would have any issues handling him.

When the train at last arrived at King's Cross, Harry and Cedric pulled the twins aside.

"Guys… we want you to have this," said Harry, thrusting the sack of coins into George's hand.

"Err…" Fred was stunned, as was his brother.

"We think you will get much better use out of it than we will," said Cedric.

"Mental," said George.

"Both of them," Fred added.

"Guys, no, we're not… it's just… look, the entire tournament's left a bad taste in both our mouths—for different reasons, but… just take it… get inventing. Use it for the joke shop."

"Yup, definitely mental," said Fred.

"Look, guys, we're serious," said Cedric, "If you don't take it, Harry's gonna dump it down the drain."

"You wouldn't!"

"The nerve!"

"And get Ron some better dress robes," said Harry, "And whatever you do, don't tell your mum where you got it… I might like to live to see adulthood."

Stepping through the barrier, Harry found uncle Vernon waiting as had been the case the first time around, Mrs. Weasley waiting close by. "I think Dumbledore will let you come visit later in the summer. Do keep in touch, Harry," the Weasley matriarch spoke, gently.

"See you, Harry," said Ron, clapping him on the back.

"Bye, Harry, be sure to write me, okay?" said Hermione. Unlike the first time around, there was no kiss on the cheek. Instead, they embraced tightly.

"Harry… Cedric, thanks," said George, quietly, while Fred grinned madly at his side. Harry winked at them, then turned to face Cedric, while the Weasleys headed off as a group.

"I'll come see you in a few days, Harry."

"I'll not… there won't—" Vernon sputtered, but Harry glared at him. "WE will be having a conversation when we get back to Surry," said Harry, icily, then turned back to Cedric. "That will be great!" After a strong embrace and a kiss on the forehead, Cedric too, went his own way, leaving Harry standing with his uncle.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: I don't do this often, as I don't believe you the reader needs his/her hand held. Once in a while, though, I feel it is necessary._

_As always, my favourite Non-canon pairing is Harry/Cedric. In my last three major fictions, they've been featured as a past relationship. This time around, they are the primary pairing. Goody goody! As always, love to hear your thoughts on the opening, and of course, open to suggestions as well. And, if there's someone in the audience who might want to become a beta, give me a shout!_

_(1) Taken from GoF, verbatim text._

_(2) There is so much ambiguity with the spelling of this spell, but I'm going with the Lexicon's spelling, as it seems to best match the etymology of the action._

_** This chapter modified August 29, 2009 (Corrections made to reflect Part name)  
** Modified again September 11, 2009 (Continuity correction)  
** Modified again September 21, 2009 (Added reference to Sarah's prophecy)_


	2. Laying A New Foundation

Laying a New Foundation

_All right… in case it wasn't clear the first time… there is __S.L.A.S.H. in this story. As in, wand-on-wand, boy on boy. Just so there's an understanding there. Most unfortunate the first review of this latest fan fiction is a flame. Oh well… I do write this mainly for my own entertainment, and should others enjoy it also, all the better._

_Shout-outs to reviewers__: Helius8210, phonix090590, njferrell, fifespice, and jappeth. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAU__TION: Coarse language, violence, major spoilers for "Half Blood Prince"._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: __Harry lays out some new rules of engagement for his relatives, then visits Diagon Alley, as well as several other locations he shouldn't be. Beware of Harry…_

_

* * *

  
_

**2:LAYING A NEW FOUNDATION  
Or, the "M" word and what it means to the Dursleys**

As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, Harry wasted no time exiting the vehicle, and retrieving his trunk from the boot.

"Now you listen here, boy," Vernon began, "There will be no—"

"What, funny business? I am going to store my trunk in my room, and then you, your wife, your son, and I will be having a conversation," said Harry, his voice cold and even. Vernon began to sputter at the indignation, but one look at the green ice chips that were Harry's eyes made him think otherwise. He huffed, then stormed into the house.

Once Harry had stored his school trunk in his room, he made sure his wand was once again stuffed in the waistband of his pants, then trekked back down the stairs to the lounge, where, surprisingly, the Dursleys had complied, and were waiting.

"I need you all to listen to me, and listen carefully," said Harry, gesturing with his hand at the coffee table, where a pitcher of iced tea appeared, along with four glasses, causing his relatives to whimper. "You'll notice I didn't use my wand to conjure up this lovely service—do feel free to have some, by the way—" Harry gestured to the wand, still stuck in the waistband of his pants.

"You… you can't use magic out of school!" Vernon sputtered, "They'll—"

"What, expel me? No, I think not," said Harry, his voice rather light, "See, I'm needed. Voldemort almost came back… thanks to me, he didn't get his body back… but next time we won't be so lucky, and it'll be up to me, and me only to defeat him. So I'll make this very clear. I have things to do. I will stay out of your way, and you'll stay out of mine. It's that simple. If you want me to take care of the gardens and so on, fine. But it'll be done MY way. Just imagine, aunt Petunia, you could have the best garden in the neighbourhood, if you'll let me use dragon dung… makes the plants grow like crazy."

"You'll NOT be using—"

"Oh, Vernon… perhaps if we just… very well, boy, I'll leave you… just don't let me SEE you actually doing any of your freakish things," said Petunia, still obviously uncomfortable with the idea.

"You do know about the wards on the house, right? All of you?"

"W-wards?" Dudley squeaked.

"Yes. Very powerful protections wrought by ancient magic. Look, if I fail, our world will be fucked over three ways from Sunday. Do you really want that?"

"What—how dare—what do you…" Vernon sputtered, the vein on his forehead pumping a furious purple. Petunia was equally appalled by Harry's choice of words.

"Dudley… you and your friends will do well to keep away from me from here on out… I won't put up with your dragon shit any more. This is your one warning." Harry poured himself a glass of iced tea, and took a swig. "I don't like making a bunch of demands and ultimatums, but it seems that's the only thing you understand. All I ask for is to be left alone, and perhaps treated civilly. Is that really too much to ask?" He downed the glass, and left the room.

Climbing the stairs and re-entering his room, he then opened Hedwig's cage, and let her out. "Hey, girl. Things are gonna be different this summer." The owl looked up at him, blinking her yellow eyes. "I'm not the boy they all expect me to be any more. It's time I made some of my own decisions." The owl blinked again, as if in understanding.

That evening, as he lay on his bed, having adjusted the room to better fit a growing wizard, he finally allowed his mind to wander back to the conversation he had had with Dumbledore the day before.

It was immediately following the leaving feast, when the headmaster had pulled Harry aside, inviting him up to the office for their chat.

"Harry, you have changed much this past year," said Dumbledore, as they seated themselves: Dumbledore behind his desk, Harry seated in a comfortable chair before it.

"I almost lost Cedric," said Harry, quietly.

"Yes, but you did not, Harry. I trust you two have made plans for the summer?"

"He's planning to visit me a few days after we get back," said Harry, "It definitely gives me something to look forward to at my relatives' place." He smiled easily, realizing once again, things had changed dramatically.

"Indeed, Harry," said Dumbledore, as they made eye contact. Harry had been expecting this, and carefully placed chosen memories up front for Dumbledore to see, namely some of the events in the graveyard, mixed with some uncomfortable memories of his life with the Dursleys. After a few moments, he felt Dumbledore withdraw.

"Harry, I know life with your relatives has been less than enjoyable, but you must understand, it is the only place where you will truly be safe."

"And what happens when I come of age, sir? Surely whatever protections you have will fail…"

"How did you come to know that, Harry?" Dumbledore questioned, and Harry once again felt the icy fingers of the headmaster's magic trying to see into his mind. More memories of his life with the Dursleys, this time of Dudley and his gang, enjoying their favourite pastime: Harry hunting. The prickly feeling quickly left.

"I dunno, I figured, there HAS to be some reason you insist on me staying there, right?"

"Indeed, Harry, you are correct," said Dumbledore, taking a lemon drop from the dish on the corner of his desk. "Lemon Drop?"

"No thank you," Harry declined, then continued, "Sir, what's so special about the protections at my relatives?"

"It has everything to do with the scar on your forehead. Remember what happened to professor Quirrell when you touched him?" Harry nodded. "It is all about the powerful protection which flows through your blood Harry. Your mother's love. As long as you call your aunt's house your home—"

"But sir, I've never really considered it such. They only see me as a freak!"

"I know, dear boy, how I know. I do wish there was a better solution, but as long as Voldemort remains a threat, it is our only choice."

"But… how was he able to survive?"

"Indeed, that is truly the question now, isn't it?" Dumbledore reached into his desk, and pulled out the destroyed diary that belonged to Tom Riddle. "This may be our clue, and if it is anything like I suspect, we are truly in for a difficult fight."

"Sir, WHY?" Harry almost shouted, but it came out sharply. "Why is Voldemort trying to kill me?"

"Harry, you have to understand. I wished you to have a chance at some sort of childhood before you faced your destiny." Harry snorted at that comment. "And my childhood has been roses. Right."

"Harry, if there had been any other way, I would have done it. You must realize that," said Dumbledore. Of course, he was right, Harry gave him that much. "You have seen my pensieve, yes?" Harry nodded. Dumbledore rose, and pulled the pensieve out of the cabinet, and after placing it on the desk, collected a small vial from a large carousel containing what looked like thousands of little bottles. Each one of them contained a memory, or a stream of them.

As Dumbledore poured the contents of the vial into the pensieve, Harry stuck his finger in the silvery liquid, already fully aware of what he was about to see: a younger Sybill Trelawney speaking the dreaded prophecy which rested so heavily on his shoulders, all over again… _'…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have the power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…'_

Harry sat back in the chair, appearing to mull over what he had just heard. After a few moments, he let out a sigh, then declared, "I guess it shouldn't surprise me… I mean, he's come after me three times—err, make that four times already."

"Indeed, Harry."

"So why haven't you been preparing me, getting me ready? I would have rather been put into extra classes, training, you know, instead of dancing around the garden, with useless visions of a childhood I will never have. I'm going on fifteen years old, and what do I have to show for it? Perhaps next time we meet, I won't be so lucky."

"Harry, you lack faith in yourself," Dumbledore responded, "You have shown far more courage than I could have imagined. No, I think you will do more than admirably when the two of you next meet."

"I guess."

"However, your point is received. I will see about setting up some extra lessons, perhaps over the summer, but more than likely starting in September." Dumbledore paused for a few moments. "Harry, there is something that has held me curious since the third task. How is it you were aware of Barty Crouch's deception?"

"I saw it… through my scar… in the graveyard," answered Harry, "He had shown Voldemort his disguise. Sir, why didn't you know? I mean, you've known each other a long time, right?"

"Do forgive me, Harry, I am an old man, at times prone to mistakes," answered Dumbledore.

Harry bowed his head. It was hard to stay angry at the headmaster. The first time around, it had been he who had done his best to clear Harry's name, and get his education reinstated. He had gone to great lengths to ensure Harry still received an education. Glamour charms had been very handy in allowing him to stay in the castle at times, one of the many charms the headmaster taught him.

Yet, it had all ended tragically at the end of what would have been his sixth year. They had gone after a Horcrux Voldemort had hidden in a cave, using a most disturbing potion. Dumbledore had consumed all of it, allowing Harry to collect said Horcrux, but it had taken its toll. Returning to the castle, they were ambushed, and the overgrown bat of a potions master, with the assistance of Draco Malfoy, proved his true allegiance—it was only much later when Harry learned of the true motivations, and the fact Snape was in fact truly working on Dumbledore's instructions.

"A sickle for your thoughts, Harry?"

"Just thinking, is all. Thank you for showing me the memory, at least now I know the WHY. I guess in a way I feel relieved. Sir, like I said last time we met here, I just want people to be honest with me. I do have a right to that, do I not?"

"Indeed you do, Harry. You know, I am truly amazed at your maturity. You have handled this very well."

"I have to. If it's truly me or him… being childish about it won't get us anywhere." The elder wizard inclined his head, eyes once again twinkling madly. "Indeed, you are so right, Harry." A happy trill sounded, and Harry looked up to see Fawkes looking at him, perhaps agreeing with him? Wouldn't surprise him. "Hello Fawkes." He thought for a moment, then said, "Sir, if I need to send you a letter, may I call on Fawkes?"

"Of course. It might be wise to keep your correspondence to a minimum as it is, considering the uncertainty of events. Should you need a bit of extra company, feel free to call on him also."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you sir."

"You have forged a strong bond with Fawkes, a most unusual feat, Harry. Phoenixes do not usually form more than one bond at a time…"

Harry smirked to himself as the memory faded. Yes, Fawkes might be a very handy ally over the summer, as there were several things that would need attending to, and it would never do for some people to know about that. He didn't like the idea of deceiving the headmaster, yet, at the same time, there were things that, for the time being, Dumbledore could NOT know. He quickly sorted through the day's memories, closed his eyes, and at last allowed sleep to take him.

The following morning, he was woken by his aunt's shrill call. "Boy!? You up?"

"I'll be down in a minute, aunt Petunia," Harry answered sleepily. He summoned a pepper-up potion, downed it, slipped on a loose tee shirt and a pair of Dudley's cast-off jeans, and finally unlocked the door. Hedwig was gone, probably still out hunting.

"Good morning, aunt Petunia," said Harry. He would try and be civil, after all, right? His aunt scowled at him, and gestured to a plate sitting on the island. Some cold toast, a couple slices of bacon, and an egg.

"Thank you," said Harry, waving a hand over the plate. Steam instantly started rising off the now heated breakfast, which he carried to the table and took a seat. "I'll be out of the house most of the day. Wizard business and all," he added, seeing his aunt about to question. It had exactly the effect he wanted, as she closed her mouth and did not ask.

"I want you to… to continue tending the garden, boy," Petunia said. It was half way between asking and demanding. Harry only nodded, however, saying, "I'll be sure to pick up some items today that will do some amazing things for the garden. The neighbours will be jealous in a couple of weeks. One of my year mates loves herbology—err, the Wizarding equivalent of Horticulture. I'd ask him to come over, but…"

"As long as it's while Vernon's not home," said Petunia. Harry nodded. "I'll see if he's available sometime next week. Maybe get his ideas on what you might need… yeah, I'll have him help me with the garden supplies." Petunia nodded at that, and they fell silent.

"Why are you being so nice?" Petunia finally asked, still standing at the island counter, watching as he ate.

"Because you are blood, right? I mean, you haven't treated me well, but… if it wasn't for you… the world as we know it would be in big trouble. Voldemort hates Muggles. He'll kill as many as he can, if he ever gets the power he wants. And you'd be at the top of his list." Petunia seemed to become very pale for a moment, as the words sunk in. "I promise you… I will protect your family. If you will let me… I mean, you have done that much for me."

Petunia once again stared open-mouthed at her sister's son. This boy—or—young man was most definitely not a freak, she was beginning to see that now. Even after the way she and her family had treated him, he was still willing to do what was right. "Th-thank you, b-Harry." Harry only inclined his head, as he polished off the remainder of his breakfast.

"you're welcome. Now if you guys want me to cook breakfast tomorrow... let me know if there's stuff needed at the store. I'll go out later on, once I'm back from…"

"Diagon Alley," Petunia guessed.

"Yeah. I'll be back sometime this afternoon. In a way it's good you woke me up." Petunia inclined her head, and Harry gestured with his hand, banishing the plate to the sink. He then stepped out the back door into the back garden. 'Now… let's see if I remember how to do this…'

If it had been Diagon Alley, the sudden appearance of a trail of black smoke in the sky would have been truly frightening. Yet, this was Knockturn Alley, a place where that kind of thing might be expected. The black shape took a more solid form on the steps of Borgin & Burkes, a store known in darker circles to carry things the Ministry would most definitely not approve of.

Harry grinned a sinister grin, and stepped inside of said shop. He wasted no time locating the object of his visit that morning: a large cabinet that still stood against one wall. The same cabinet he had hidden in the summer before his second year, avoiding the Malfoys. Taking it wouldn't be that much of a problem.

"May I help you?" Harry recognized the oily-haired stooping man at once to be that of Mr. Borgin. He had expected to run into one of the shop owners at least.

"Yes, you just might," said Harry, thrusting a hand forward, "STUPEFY!" The shop keeper fell heavily to the floor, his head narrowly missing the edge of the counter by inches. He then knelt down beside the man, thinking carefully of the last few minutes, drawing his wand—the Ministry could not track who was casting magic in Diagon Alley, nor Knockturn Alley for that matter. "Obliviate." He then pointed his wand at the cabinet in question, shrinking it down to fit in his pocket. 'There. At least one disaster that can be averted,' Harry thought, then disapparated with a soft POP.

His next destination was Gringotts. He would need some money for his next destination, preferably a bit of wizard and Muggle currency. Once inside, he stepped up to the first open wicket. "I need to visit my vault, please," he said, sliding his key across the counter.

"Very well. Follow me, please," the goblin behind the wicket sneered, hopping down off the step stool he was standing on to see over the counter.

The trip down to his school vault was every bit as crazy as he remembered it, but having seen things far more insane in many ways, he didn't really mind it too much. "Vault six-eighty-seven," announced the goblin, "Key please." Harry quickly handed the goblin his key, and the door was unlocked. Harry wasted no time collecting a sack full of galleons. He noted the pile was still almost as large as it had been the first time he had seen it.

"Mr. Potter, you are aware of your inheritance, of course," the goblin spoke.

"I'll get it when I'm seventeen."

"Now we both know, Mr. Potter, you are older than seventeen."

"Excuse me?"

"When it comes to issues of inheritance, we are very thorough," the goblin sneered, "We do take our business here very seriously. Once you are finished here, you will be meeting with Griphook."

"Of course, I remember him." Harry quickly finished collecting the coins he thought he would need, then returned to the cart.

As expected, Griphook was waiting for them when the cart returned to the surface. Harry was led into one of the back rooms.

"I won't take much of your time, Mr. Potter. We only need your signature on a few documents." Harry only nodded, and signed where indicated.

"Wait a minute. If you guys can detect my real age… can't the ministry as well? I really don't want this to get out… that I'm really twenty-six… bloody hell I still don't know what happened."

"I don't know of their procedures as far as under aged witches and wizards are concerned, Mr. Potter. I would guess, it's quite likely they will notice something when the detection charms dissolve from your residence."

"Great. I'd really hoped I would at least get the summer before certain people knew about it." He finished signing the papers, which at once folded themselves up and vanished. Harry already understood what had happened: the documents were now safely filed away appropriately with record-keeping.

"Your key will now work in your family vault, number seven oh two," Griphook explained, "If you wish, I can take you down."

"No, not today. I've got other things to take care of," said Harry.

"Very well, then, our business is done here."

"May your vaults overflow with Galleons," said Harry. Griphook was taken aback for a moment at the comment, but then nodded, giving a toothy grin. Yes, Harry Potter was definitely a strange wizard.

Harry's next stop was a shop that specialized in wizard travelling apparatus. The shop sold just about everything the travelling wizard or witch would need to keep the comforts of home when away from home. The first time around, he had managed to corner Mad-Eye Moody and ask him where he had procured his trunk. The shop owner had been more than cooperative, setting Harry up with a three-compartment trunk, whose third compartment was in fact a room. Of course, it hadn't stayed that way, once Harry and Hermione started in on it.

This time around would be no different, as he tracked down the shop proprietor, and explained what he needed.

"Yes, that's certainly a bit of an order, but nothing I can't handle," said the shop keeper, "If it's all right, we can take a floor model, and make the customizations. It should only take me a few hours. How about three o'clock this afternoon?"

"That would be great. The outside appearance isn't all that important, just as long as it works. In the meantime, I've got other things to take care of anyway, so I'll come back and settle at three, then." Harry nodded to the shop keeper, then stepped back out into the alley, this time taking the time to look around.

Indeed, the alley had a very different feel to it than it had the last time he had seen it. Here, people were still moving around freely, going out their business without a worry. All the shops were open, no glaring ministry posters—other than a few with pictures of his godfather on them—that too would change, he KNEW it.

After having a bite for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry then stopped at Magical Menagerie, where he picked up some owl treats for Hedwig. There was no sense in picking anything else up, although, as he thought… no, he DID need more parchment… and in fact, he needed a few sheets of oversized parchment for another little project. If he had his way, no one would get near the Dursleys without him knowing. A foe glass, and a sneakoscope would come in handy as well.

That got him thinking on several other issues. The Horcruxes. The thing was, did he dare touch any of them with Voldemort still without a body? Yet, if he could eliminate them all BEFORE he reclaimed a body, there would be no final confrontation whatsoever. With that decision firmly made, he once again popped away.

He landed in the shrieking shack, and gesturing with his hand, he disillusioned himself. It would not be a good idea for him to be seen in Hogsmeade the day after having left for London. He made his way quickly to Honeydukes, slipped into the cellar, and down the trap door into the tunnel which led to the secret entrance on the third floor at Hogwarts.

Once in the school, he was forced to hide in the shadows, as voices could be heard coming toward him. Luckily, he had been able to hide his magical signature—he felt the wards wash over him, probing his identity—so more than likely, they would be looking for an intruder. This was old hat to Harry, he had snuck into Hogwarts several times AFTER it fell under control of the Death Eaters. Snape had actually done well, protecting the students from the worst of the lot, but it was at most times most unpleasant to be a student at Hogwarts.

The voices were getting closer, and Harry could now make them out.

"…telling you, Albus, the brat is a powerful Occlumens. I could not budge an inch on his defences. He forced me to see only what he chose me to see." 'Of course,' Harry grinned, ducked away in the shadows, 'Snape,' he thought. No, it wouldn't take long for him to know the secret. Now if only Harry could get him to stop acting like a greasy git toward him.

"Indeed, Severus, I come to a similar conclusion. He is more talented than you give him credit for. I do have to wonder what Lily might say, if she were able to see how you treat her son?"

"Do not attempt such manipulations, headmaster," said Snape, coldly. Harry didn't have to see him to know he had his patented sneer firmly in place. There was a pause, and Snape continued, "I may have agreed to protect her son, but it does not mean I have to like him."

"Your animosity does neither of you any good. Must you continue to blame the son for the faults of the parent?"

"Headmaster, you know as well as I do, should I go soft on Potter, word would take little time to reach the Dark Lord's followers, whether the Dark Lord is truly still alive or not. My use as a spy would be at an end." 'Of course, he speaks the truth,' Harry thought. Snape was absolutely crucial to the efforts of the light. 'I wonder if he could use some basilisk parts for potion ingredients…'

Once Dumbledore and Snape vanished around a corner, Harry stepped out from his hiding place. Sure, he was still disillusioned, but the two wizards were most certainly not ordinary. He let out a sigh, then made off for the seventh floor and his final destination: the Room of Requirement.

"I need the room of hidden things… I need the room of hidden things… I need the room of hidden things…" he spoke, pacing back and forth three times at the wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy: a rather amusing painting of a wizard attempting to teach some trolls to dance the ballet.

Wasting no time as soon as the door appeared, he was in the incredible room, which then resembled an indoor junk pile. If you could dream it, it was likely somewhere in that room. He made a bee line for a spot toward the back of the room, where there lay another object he wished to collect: the mate to the vanishing cabinet that lay in his pocket. No, Death Eaters would not be sneaking into the school THAT WAY this time around.

He then turned his attention to the second target of his visit: Rowena Revenclaw's Diadem, which rested on the bust of an unknown wizard. Picking up a cloth on a nearby table, he accidentally knocked a strange-looking gadget to the floor, which rolled around for a moment, clattering to a stop. Shrugging, he reached down to pick it up, and was given a shock—literally, as a yellow arc of magic jumped between Harry and the device, causing him to let out a yelp. "Merlin's balls!"

He took a deep breath, calming his rattled nerves, and once again picked up the cloth, this time a little more carefully, lest he knock over something ELSE that might bite. Perhaps next time, a mild shock would be the least of his worries. He draped the cloth over the diadem, then gingerly picked it up. His experience dealing with a cursed necklace in his sixth year the first time around had taught him well about dealing with cursed objects. This was one of the worst that could be created.

Harry worked quickly, wrapping the diadem in the cloth, then shrinking it down to fit in his pocket. His job finished, he made his way from the room, retraced his steps back to the third floor, and lastly, back through the passage to Honeydukes. Unseen by the boy-who-lived, the strange object he had encountered in the Room of Requirement glowed a light blue colour, and vanished.

It was just after three o'clock when Harry again visited the Wizarding travel store.

"Ah, Mr. Potter. I'm just finishing up now," said the shop owner, indicating the large trunk which rested on the floor. The wood was a dark colour, with brass hardware on the corners. The latch and lock were also of brass.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Given the extra customizations, eight hundred galleons all totalled."

"Great." Harry fished into his sack of coins, and began counting out coins. True, it was an expensive purchase, but it would be worth it in the end. It took him several minutes to pull out the correct total, and even longer for the shop keeper to count it.

"very well then, allow me to explain its basic functions," said the shop keeper, gesturing to the now completed trunk. "Three compartments, as you requested. They are accessed depending on which latch you open." He gestured to the first latch. "This one, as well as the second, open to typical trunk compartments, both expanded substantially." He opened the first latch, allowing Harry to look inside.

"Great, excellent."

"The third one, as you requested, opens to reveal a ladder. I've given you an eight by fourteen room to furnish as you see fit." He closed the lid, then opened the third latch, allowing Harry to inspect it.

"I wasn't sure of the security charms you wanted on it, so there was nothing added." Harry only waved his hand at the comment, saying, "No worry, I have friends who can do that."

"Then we are settled. Thank you for your business, Mr. Potter." Harry inclined his head, picked up the trunk—which had been charmed to be feather light—and stepped out into the street. He ducked into an alcove, shrunk down the new trunk, and disapparated back to Little Whinging.

Stepping back into the house, he found a note tacked to the fridge. Petunia did in fact want a few things from the grocery store, and had left twenty pounds on the counter. He left them where they were, again disillusioned himself, and popped away. The grocery store wasn't that far away, but it was the novelty of it, after all. Not that he would ever get lazy, allowing magic to do everything for him. That was one of the things his relatives hated, and they did have a point.

The store, of course, was an absolute zoo. Everything else had gone so well, so there had to be a cock-up somewhere, right? He collected the items on the list as quickly as he could, then joined the lengthy queue at the cashier. He thought of the items in the basket, realizing Petunia wanted pancakes for breakfast. He had added some fresh strawberries and blueberries to the list, to add a little flavour. His mind then wandered back to the items now cluttering his pockets, and why he hadn't emptied them before going shopping. 'Bloody hell, what would the bobbies say if I were questioned?' The strange items that lay miniaturized in his pocket would most definitely result in some VERY uncomfortable questions.

More importantly, however, was the very dark object among them. One of Voldemort's Horcruxes. Even now, in its miniaturized state, he could hear it whispering to him in a language only he and one other understood: the language of snakes, parseltongue.

When he finally got back to the house, Petunia had returned, as had Dudley.

"I see you have still not—" but broke off, noticing the grocery bags Harry was carrying. "Did you not see the money left on the counter?"

"It's fine, I covered it," answered Harry, as he carried the groceries into the kitchen.

"Go, I'll put things away," said Petunia. Harry only nodded, then went to his room. There was stuff to unpack!

The trunk was first. Anything serious was to be done in the trunk. Just because the magic detectors would be vanishing soon didn't mean he could act recklessly. Even though Voldemort had not been able to return, he still wished not to draw the attention of the Ministry—although that would most likely happen anyway.

Next, came the other standard items he had purchased. Hedwig was resting on the window sill, watching her owner expectantly. Somehow she knew he had bought her more treats.

"Yes, Hedwig, I have more treats for you and your friends," Harry grinned, pulling out the package, and giving her one. "It was a good day today I think." He pulled out the cloth containing the Horcrux, and placed it in the second compartment of his new trunk. That would have to do for the time being, until he had better security.

Next thing on the list was the two vanishing cabinets, of which one was busted. It was the one thing he could never figure out; how Draco had managed to fix it. The brat had eventually came over to the light, perhaps a little too late to have any real effect. He had died trying to save Luna from Belletrix Lestrange, who had taken great offence her nephew had switched sides. Perhaps he could get to the prince of Slytherin sooner this time around.

For now, the two vanishing cabinets joined the Horcrux in the second compartment. He then finished emptying his pockets, and re-enlarged the parchment. That was his next project. Taking out a pencil, he started tracing a series of runes at the top. He also pulled out a scrap of parchment, as well as an Arithmancy text and an Ancient Runes text he had purchased at Florish & Blott's. They would help with the calculations.

When done, it would be a stark improvement on another piece of parchment he still had tucked away in his school trunk: the Marauder's map. This map he was creating would self-update wherever he might be.

He had spent an insane amount of time attempting to understand how the Marauder's map was created, and in fact it was only three years before his final confrontation with Voldemort he had finally cracked the secret. He had been able to do exactly what he was attempting at the moment, and it had worked famously. It was in fact key to his final victory.

Now, he continued scribbling out calculations, adding additional runes as they were calculated. It had taken him many hours to do it the first time, and this time would be no different. He finally went to bed as the clock red 2:00 am.

Just before 7 am, there was a knock at the door. "Harry, you wanted to make us breakfast, right?"

"Yeah, sure thing, Dud," Harry answered, grinning, as the room came into fuzzy focus. Yes, things were definitely better this summer than they ever had been. Slipping his glasses onto his face, he sat up, and started. The strange object he had upset in the room of requirement the day before now sat in the middle of his bedroom.


	3. Flat Trunk

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __njferrell, Corwalch, jappeth, __Rainbow2007. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Possible spoilers for books 5, 6, and 7. Mild spoiler for CotC I._

_SUMMARY: Sarah Gilman's most recent drawing gives Malachai a start; Harry questions the origin of the strange object that had appeared in his bedroom; Harry returns to Gringotts to visit the family vault and retrieve a few important things; another confrontation with the Dursleys gives another hint of Harry's strength as a wizard; a visit to No. 12 Grimmauld Place gains a new ally; and work continues on the flat inside Harry's trunk…_

_Quick note: Our first incursion into the "Children of the Corn" universe. For the most part follows movie-verse, save for a couple of things._

**3:FLAT TRUNK?  
Or, is it a trunk flat?**

**August 3, 1983, Gatlin, Nebraska**

In the master bedroom in the upstairs of an old farm house, a girl of only eight years old lay on her stomach, crayons in hand, drawing on a piece of manila paper. The drawing was just about complete, and only now did she have a slight inclination of what it meant. She knew better than to show her drawings to anyone, particularly since Isaac had taken an interest in them, calling her a 'seer'.

Even worse… Malachai. It was hell whenever he would catch the twins doing anything that might resemble fun. Speak of the devil. The ginger-haired enforcer was standing in the doorway, glaring at the girl. Sometimes she wondered if it was a favourite pastime of his, preventing anyone from having fun. Then again, the fun had long died, three years ago.

"Drawing again?" He crossed the room abruptly, and snatched up the drawing. "We will be visiting—" Malachai let out a sharp breath and almost dropped the drawing, as his eyes took in the scene the child had drawn.

**Present Time**

The device was about the size of a quaffle, and very much resembled one of the many small trinkets which seemed to adorn Dumbledore's office. The question was, how did it get here? For the time being, he used a dirty shirt and wrapped the item in it, then placed it in the second compartment of his new trunk. He had breakfast to make, after all.

As he worked at the stove, his thoughts were still stuck on the strange object now stored in his trunk. How had it managed to follow him? Could it be a danger? It certainly wasn't the last time he had dealt with bizarre objects, and he wasn't worried about what it might be. After all, there was something far more dangerous resting in the same compartment. Yet, there had to be a way to determine if it was at least safe to handle, right?

He was brought out of his thoughts, when Vernon stepped into the kitchen. Harry only nodded, and gestured to a cup of coffee already poured for him. He hurriedly filled four plates, then sat at the table.

"And do tell, boy, who invited you to sit with us?" questioned Vernon, with a glare.

"I did, when 'I' paid for the food you're eating this morning out of my own pocket," answered Harry, matter-of-factly. His uncle could not come up with a retort, and so the table fell to silence.

Once he finished, he stood. "I'll be out of the house most of the day again today. More wizard stuff."

"Is this to be the habit throughout the summer, boy?" questioned Vernon, gruffly.

"I dunno, maybe. Look, it's better I'm out of the house, rather than stuck here underfoot," Harry pointed out. Vernon conceded, then stood up himself. It was time for him to leave for work.

Once Petunia and Dudley were out of the kitchen, Harry cleaned up with a few gestures of his hands. The dishes floated themselves to the sink, washed and dried themselves, and put themselves away. He again smirked to himself, watching magic at work. It had been some time since he had actually felt good, felt alive. Just altering a single action, was already creating a butterfly effect. Sure, it was a dangerous game he was playing, but really, things couldn't end up much worse than they had ended up the first time, could they?

Like the day before, planned to spend most of the day in Diagon Alley, this time with his new trunk stowed in his pocket. It certainly made things much easier as far as purchases went, along with the other part of the mission that day. He had taken the time just before leaving, to apply an automatic resizing charm to it, so he wouldn't be having to cast magic each time he needed into it.

This time around, he cast a glamour on himself, so he wouldn't be seen. He had silently kicked himself the previous night, realizing how unwise it had been to be out in the alley without some kind of disguise.

The main objective on this second visit was to see his family vault at Gringotts. He had allowed the day for exactly that, as he knew there would be much to look at. So, just before 11 am, he was on his way down to the vault, courtesy of a bank cart.

Knowing it would be some time, he dismissed the goblin, allowing him to return to the surface. He then re-enlarged his new trunk, and began stuffing various items into the first compartment. He decided the second compartment would be reserved strictly for dark objects, items that were potentially dangerous. He then began collecting several books that had been indispensable the first time around; his mother had been a genius at charms, after all. In fact, there were several books that would be a great use when expanding the room in his trunk.

The first time around, he had created a large flat, with easily a dozen rooms. He had also managed to track down information on how to create a Room of Requirement. The thing was, would Dumbledore allow him to borrow the books this time? He mulled it over, as he tossed yet another advanced charms text into the pile growing in the first compartment. Of course, he reasoned, that particular text also contained some other very useful—albeit very advanced charms. Maybe a letter would be in order...

The most important thing collected was something truly special: a portrait of his parents. They had created it just after finishing school, so they had explained the first time around. It would be nice to at least be able to talk to them again—not that it was that long ago. Toward the end of the war, he had lived in his trunk most of the time, and the portrait had been hung above the fireplace.

Locating said portrait, he wasted no time in waking it. He grinned, as they woke and quickly oriented themselves. "Son?" said James.

"Hi dad," said Harry, still grinning. This was much different than the first time he had woken them. The first time, it was several hours before he could recompose himself enough to even speak to them.

"You've got your inheritance?" questioned Lily, seeming to appraise her son.

"Yeah, mum. There's stuff I have to tell you, though."

"You can't be seventeen yet," said James, "How did you fool the goblins?"

"I didn't, dad," answered Harry, "I'll explain everything properly in a bit... but the goblins let me know yesterday I had access to this vault, and I was a little surprised. So I came back today... there were a few other things I needed."

"So it seems," said Lily, glancing over at the open trunk. "A multi-compartment trunk I assume."

"Yeah, mum, it's got three compartments, one of them being a whole room. I plan to enlarge it significantly."

"How old are you, Harry?" questioned James.

"I turn fifteen at the end of July."

"Well done, a prank worthy of the Marauders, getting in here two years early."

"Dad. As I said, I have a few things to tell you later." Harry continued selecting numerous books from the shelves that lined one wall of the vault.

"You seem to know what you're looking for," Lily noticed, "As if you've done this before."

"Bingo!" said Harry, as he placed an armful of books into the trunk. He then took a breath, and began to explain the events of the original time line, or as he thought of it, 'the first time around'.

"So, you're still living with my sister," Lily assumed, when Harry finished.

"Yeah. Although this summer's shaping up to be quite different than last. It helps that I can do many things now without a wand. I wish I could've done that when I was younger. It would have saved a lot of grief."

"I think I will want a word with my sister," said Lily, icily, "She made terrible fun of Severus, you know."

"I know, Snape shared a pensieve memory or two of you guys. He loved you until he died."

"Really?"

"Honest, mum. Did you know, his Patronus is a doe, like yours?" Lily was surprised by the revelation. "It's true," Harry continued, "The bravest man I've ever met. That reminds me, I need to send him a letter, see if he might like to help me harvest a basilisk."

"A basilisk?!!" Lily was alarmed.

"Oh, it's already dead," said Harry, "I killed it at the end of my second year, saved my best friend's sister." Lily was still shocked at the idea.

"I'll have to tell you about my adventures at Hogwarts another time." He glanced at his watch. "It's time to get back to my aunt's house. I think for now I'll put your portrait in the room in the trunk. We can talk more after supper."

Arriving back at No. 4 Privet Drive, he found his aunt looking out of sorts.

"What's wrong?" questioned Harry, hand inching toward his wand.

"One of YOUR lot is in the back garden," she huffed. Harry glanced out through the solarium, and had to grin. Cedric was waiting for him.

"He won't bite, you know. Come let me introduce you... after all, you'll be seeing a lot of him this summer," Harry grinned.

"Now listen here, Harry... We will not be some..."

"What, I'm not allowed to have friends over? If I'm not allowed to have friends over, then neither is Dudley," Harry said in a low voice, "Trust me, I have ways of enforcing that." Petunia huffed and made a sour face at the threat, then stormed off into the basement. Harry shrugged, then stepped out into the back garden.

"Harry! Where've you been?"

"Gringotts," answered Harry, "C'mon, I have something to show you." He grabbed the older boy by the arm and all but dragged him through the house and up to his room.

Cedric looked around Harry's room, seeming to appraise the set up. "You've enlarged it."

"One of the first things I did when I got back. I mean, normally, this is the smallest bedroom in the house." Harry pulled the trunk out of his pocket, and re-enlarged it. He then opened the third latch. He pulled the lid open, revealing a ladder. He then made a gesture at the bedroom door—he wouldn't want his relatives intruding on them.

"Most impressive!" Cedric praised, as Harry began to climb down. He quickly followed.

"I'm planning to add to it, of course."

"You're not wasting any time, eh, Harry?"

"I can't. Voldemort may not have gotten his body back, but he's still a threat. He will try again, that's a fact. It's just when." A throat clearing behind them caused both boys to turn around.

"Who's this, Harry?" questioned Lily.

"Oh. Mum, dad, this is Cedric Diggory. Cedric, my parents, Lily and James."

"An honour to meet you," said Cedric, inclining his head, "I would shake hands, but that might be a bit difficult."

"Indeed it would!" said James, giving a light laugh, while Lily smiled. She said, "So, you must be the boy who's claimed our son's heart, then." Cedric felt his cheeks get rather warm at that comment. "Guilty as charged."

"It's actually good you're here, Ced," said Harry, "I'll need a bit of help setting up the wards on the trunk."

"You mean to say you don't know how to do it?" questioned James, "I would have thought--"

"Dad, it's not that I don't know how to do it. It's the complication of it, and an extra wand will be a great help. What I have in mind is this..."

By the time they were finished, the sun had long set, the room dimly lit by gas lamps.

"Harry, it's getting late..."

"Stay with me," said Harry, perhaps a little faster than he might have liked.

"Well..." Cedric thought about it, then grinned. "If I might borrow Hedwig, then."

"She won't mind in the least—wait," said Harry, as Cedric began to make for the ladder, "Try and disapparate out of the trunk, let's see if you can still do it now there are wards in place." Cedric nodded, twisted on the spot, and landed flat on his behind. Lily attempted to subdue a fit of giggles, while James failed miserably, earning glares from both boys.

"Right. You'll need to be added to the access list, then. Worked exactly as expected," Harry grinned.

"At least you didn't use blood wards."

"I debated the idea, and I may still in the future," was Harry's answer, as the two of them climbed the ladder back out into Harry's room.

"All right," said Harry, touching the lid with his wand, "Addendum, Cedric Diggory." The lid glowed green for a moment, then lay still. "Now you should be able to apparate in and out of it." Cedric nodded, then sat down at the small desk.

"Here... parchment and a pen—sorry, I don't tend to use quills and ink anymore."

"It still writes, that's what counts," answered Cedric, as he scribbled out a quick note. Hedwig had already hopped up onto the window sill in front of the desk, and stood there, ready to accept the piece of mail. "Take this to my mum or dad, whoever you find first," said Cedric, tying the letter to the owl's leg with a piece of string. She easily lifted off the sill, and soared into the night sky.

"Right smart bird you have there, Harry."

"My first birthday present, but I told you that before. Hagrid got her for me." Cedric nodded, but then glanced at the larger sheet of parchment that still lay open on the desk. "What's this?"

"An improved version of the Marauder's map. I've done it before, so it won't take long."

"Harry, I'm surprised you aren't half-spare. How is it you're keeping yourself together?"

"Simple," answered the younger boy, "I still have you... and Sirius... and Ron and Hermione... everyone I care about is still alive now. Sure, it still hurts in ways, but the fact everyone's still alive... that's what keeps me together."

"Harry... you won't be able to save everyone. Fate won't allow it."

"I guess I kind of know that... I mean, Hermione's gone on enough about altering time... oh bloody hell, she'll be the one to go spare when she finds out what's happened to me," said Harry. It was only half a concern, though, as he carried a goofy grin on his face. "I mean, it's not exactly as though I ASKED for this to happen, after all. But since I'm here, I'm taking full advantage." Cedric only grinned at Harry's goofy outburst, then wrapped the boy in a tight hug.

"Now. There's no way we'll be sleeping up here." He gestured with his hand at the bedroom door. "Repello Muggletum. Let's get back into the trunk. I have some plumbing to set up..."

It was the wee hours of the morning before both teens were in bed. The expansion charm took a little more time than expected, but the trunk now had a fully-functional bathroom. The two of them now lay in a simple double bed which rested against the far wall. Harry was spooned up against Cedric, the lights now dimmed to the point where one could just see enough to get around.

"So how long do you think you'll keep your secret from Dumbledore?"

"Dunno, hopefully for a while yet. I know he means well, but... he'll want to keep me protected and all that. I think I'm more than capable of looking after myself. But at the same time, I will need his help, right... just as much as I'll need Snape's."

"You trust him?"

"With my life," answered Harry, "We don't exactly get along, but I know why. I know that when it really counts, he'll be there every bit as much as Dumbledore."

"Doesn't excuse him from being a prat around you though."

"I don't know what the answer is on that. But again, I understand. If that's how it has to be, then so be it. Ced, I know who my allies are, who I can depend on. I've already made changes for the better, and I plan to make many more... if I do things right, Voldemort will NEVER come back."

When Harry next woke, the sun was streaming in through the false window—an ingenious charm that allowed natural light into the space. Cedric had separated from him, laying on his side, facing the opposite wall. Harry smirked, and rolled over so he was up against the other boy, then began placing soft kisses on his neck, working up to his chin, then to his face. His body might only be fifteen, but his mind was twenty-six, and he did know a thing or two about how to get the attention of his boyfriend—he'd had several later on, before finally finishing off Voldemort. Of course, it had always been a risk, as any love interest would very quickly become a target for Voldemort.

He smirked as Cedric finally began to stir, and opened his eyes.

"'Morning," Harry grinned.

"You do have a way of waking someone up."

"Thought you'd like it. You have anywhere you need to be today?"

"Other than here? Not really," answered Cedric.

"Great!" Harry flicked his index finger. "Tempus." '9:14 am' wafted from it. "Aunt Petunia's not going to be happy I didn't make breakfast this morning, but I'm not their bloody house elf."

"They made you cook for them?"

"Since I could reach the stove. I mean, not ALL the time, but a good part of it. Anyway… you can have the shower first. Not that I wouldn't mind joining you, but…"

"Harry, who's going to see us here? Not that I will ever take advantage of you," Cedric pointed out. Harry grinned, saying, "I like your way of thinking."

After a long, steamy shower, which involved perhaps a little more than getting clean, the two teens quickly got dressed, then apparated back out to Harry's room, where he removed the Muggle repelling charm on the door. They stepped into the hallway, and were almost knocked over by Dudley as he thumped down the stairs. "Watch where you're going, fr—"

"I would suggest you NOT finish that sentence, Dudley," said Harry, his voice low and cold. Dudley turned around to notice the other boy, and turned deathly white. "There are two of us here that know many ways of making things VERY unpleasant. I thought we had an understanding."

"S-s-s-sorry," Dudley stammered, then recovering, warned, "Be careful around mum, she's… she's put out that you didn't come down to make breakfast."

"Thanks for the warning," said Harry.

"Just… don't hurt her, okay?"

"Of course not. Look, like I said, I just want to be left alone." Dudley nodded, and continued down the stairs. Harry and Cedric followed him into the kitchen, where indeed, Petunia was cleaning up the remnants of breakfast, a lingering burnt smell in the air.

"You!" she hissed, "How… what did you do… you were supposed to make breakfast! And… and… what's HE still doing here?"

"He stayed the night, of course," answered Harry, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"And does he not have his own bed to sleep in, rather than treating our home as a brothel?! Up there, doing your freakish things, I imagine…"

"Brothel? Good idea," Harry grinned, watching as his aunt turned deathly white, much like his cousin had only a few moments earlier.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Sure, why not? I mean, Fred and George could help out—you remember Fred and George don't you?" Dudley made a strangled sound and made a very quick exit.

"YOU WILL NOT BE…" Petunia began yelling, but Harry held up a hand, saying, "No, of COURSE we won't be doing something like that! However, no one here seems to be living up to their part of the deal. I'm not your house elf. I mean, I'm sure I could get Kreacher to come if that's what you want… but you won't like him, I GUARANTEE it. That reminds me… Ced, remind me to write a letter to Sirius later about him." Cedric only nodded, while Petunia still remained a very white shade. "Kreacher?"

"Oh yes, lovely personality. But he'd do exactly what I ask, begrudgingly nonetheless, but…"

"No, that's quite all right," Petunia sputtered, the implication being very clear. Of course, she knew what a house elf was, and no, most certainly did NOT want one in the household. Now, if Harry had his way, that was EXACTLY what was about to happen.

"Aunt Petunia, again, I make myself clear. Every time you or uncle Vernon or Dudley provoke me, you will see more 'freakish' things happen in your house. Is that what you want?"

"Harry, you can't—" Cedric began to protest, but Harry held up a hand. "The Ministry won't be able to do a thing in a few days, if what the goblins told me is true… the detection charms in the area will break down, and I'll be allowed to use my wand here. Oh, and in the event you're remotely THINKING of contacting Dumbledore or any other person about that… By my magic, I FORBID you, Petunia Dursley, from discussing any of what I have just disclosed, with ANYONE who does not already know." Harry smirked as a swirl of violet magic wafted from his chest, to settle around Petunia, then well inside her, much to her displeasure.

"Harry! That's dark magic!"

"Perhaps… but it prevents people from spreading my secrets. Now… aunt Petunia, I'll clean up the kitchen… we haven't had breakfast yet and it wouldn't be right for you to have to clean up after us as well." Petunia only glared at the two teens, then backed out of the kitchen, still looking very pale after this latest confrontation with her nephew.

Once they had eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, the teens returned to Harry's room. Harry sent off a quick note to Sirius, then they re-entered the trunk.

"'morning, Harry," Greeted Lily, from her portrait.

"'morning, mum," answered Harry, with a grin. It was nice having his parents' portrait this soon. They had been a tremendous help the previous evening with erecting the wards on the trunk.

"'morning, Mrs. Potter," said Cedric.

"So what's the plan today?" questioned James.

"Adding a couple of rooms to the trunk, probably making this room a bit bigger," said Harry, "I also have to install a fireplace… floo connection and so on—"

"Not inside a trunk, dear," said Lily, "The ministry would never allow it."

"Ah, but see, mum, 'I' know how to do it," Harry rebutted, with a smirk. That got a wicked grin from James, who spoke, "Just like a true Marauder, Prongs Jr."

"Prongs Jr. …right," said Cedric, as it dawned on him. Harry had told him about his father's Animagus form, and the influence it had on Harry's Patronus form. "Speaking of prank, you should've seen your son in action just now," said Cedric, with a smirk of his own.

Ten minutes later, James was laughing himself silly, while Lily, trying to maintain a modicum of firmness, was failing quite spectacularly. "Well," she finally managed, "Maybe my tart of a sister might finally get it… Merlin's pants, if the tables were reversed…"

"I know, mum, I know," said Harry.

An hour or so passed with playful banter back and forth, as the boys again began making changes to the trunk, which at that time mostly involved the enlargement of the original room, as it would become the common room. As it neared 11 am, Hedwig flew in through the opening in the corner where the ladder was, to light on the drawing table the teens had conjured the night before. An envelope was affixed to one of her legs. Harry quickly retrieved it. "I'll get you a treat later, okay?" The bird seemed to understand, and began preening herself. Harry quickly opened the letter. "It's from Sirius."

_Harry,_

_What do you want with Kreacher? You do know, he is not exactly 'personable', right? If it's truly important, perhaps we could make arrangements for you to come visit for an afternoon._

_Love,_

_Sirius_

"Okay, change of plans. We're going to Grimmauld Place," said Harry.

"Sirius' parents place," said James. Harry nodded, saying, "It's hidden by a Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore's the secret keeper, but I know the secret."

"Harry, I won't be able—" Cedric began.

"You can if you hold onto me while we cross the ward," answered Harry, "You trust me?"

"Of course."

"Let's go, then. Be back in a bit, guys," said Harry. He grabbed Cedric's hand, and they both disapparated.

They appeared with a light pop in the middle of a small square, a familiar plot for Harry, but foreign for Cedric. "I'll have to get Dumbledore to give you the secret, but come on." After a quick look around to make sure no one was watching, he grabbed the older boy's hand, and led him toward a block of houses on one side. Cedric immediately noticed there was no Number Twelve. 'Of course', he realized, it was probably there, just hidden.

Sure enough, Harry was going right for the boundary dividing eleven from thirteen, and, up a set of invisible stairs. Then, as soon as his feet made contact with what would have been the first step, the missing address popped into view. He had just circumvented the Fidelius charm on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

The house was darker inside than Harry had ever seen it. Perhaps Sirius was just starting to get things sorted. And of course, the Weasleys hadn't been invited over yet… summer holidays had just begun, after all.

"Shhhhh… there's a nasty portrait in the hallway that gets quite vulgar if disturbed," Harry whispered in warning. Cedric nodded, and they went into the sitting room. "Wait here, I'm gonna find Sirius." He'd barely gotten the words out when said godfather framed the doorway.

"Merlin, Harry, when I said we'd make arrangements for you to visit…"

"You know as well as I do, Dumbledore'd never allow it… at least not this early in the summer."

"And Cedric… how did you manage to get in here?"

"I led him in," answered Harry, "But I'll get Dumbledore to share the secret with him as soon as I can."

"Worthy of a Marauder," Sirius grinned, "Well, come into the kitchen. I daresay it's probably the only room in the house that's been cleaned in any decent form up to this point."

Once seated around the narrow table in the kitchen, Harry got down to business. "Sirius, I need to speak with Kreacher. He's got a locket that's very important."

"Ah, right, the Horcrux. Kreacher!" Sirius shouted. There was a loud CRACK, as the elf in question made an appearance. "Master call for Kreacher?"

"Indeed, I did," answered Sirius, "My godson has some questions for you. You will answer to him as you would answer me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, master," said Kreacher, then continuing in a low voice, "Master not fit, he isn't… oh what would mistress say?"

"Kreacher, please," said Harry, "I need a locket. It's very specific. A gold locket, with a serpentine 'S' on the front of it. Have you seen it? Answer truthfully, please." The elf shifted from foot to foot, then said, "Yes, Kreacher has seen it… Master Regulus brought it home—"

"From the lake in the cave," Harry finished, "Kreacher, I know what Regulus was trying to do. I'm going to finish it, and I know how. Could you fetch me the locket?"

"Can little master do it?" Kreacher asked, hopefully, "Kreacher tried… oh how he tried… but nothing Kreacher did ever left a mark on it."

"I promise you Kreacher, I can, and I WILL." The elf disappeared with a loud CRACK, only to reappear moments later, the locket in question in his hands. The elf looked like he was about to break down and cry.

"Kreacher, you've done very well. It is not your fault what happened to Regulus, you understand?" That's all it took. The elf fell to the floor, his wails and sobs filling the kitchen. This, of course, resulted in the inevitable. A piercing blood-curdling screech came from the hallway.

"_Filth! Vileness! How dare you besmirch my house!"_ the screams continued.

"Just a second," said Harry, with a smirk, stepping into the hallway. Over the foul portrait's screams, he shouted, "SILENCIO!" The portrait fell silent, even though the woman's lips continued to move, her face contorted into a fit of rage.

"Well done, Harry," said Sirius, appraising his godson's work, "We've all tried that before."

"Well, annunciation is only part of a spell, is it not?"

"That it is."

"If I've done it right, she'll never be heard from again."

They found Kreacher in the kitchen some time later, appearing to be in much better spirits, preparing some tea.

"You've had a magic touch with him," noted Sirius, as they took seats at the table.

"If you want, I could take him back to my aunt's house."

"He did threaten Petunia with exactly that this morning," said Cedric.

"She went deathly white with the suggestion. Another wonderful memory to power my Patronus charm," Harry grinned, "And I could probably get Dobby and Winky to help here."

"If you don't mind… You know the Order of the Phoenix will begin meeting here soon."

"Yeah, within the next week, right?" Harry guessed.

"Having the Weasleys here, Remus, and so on… it'll be awkward for Kreacher."

"My trunk will need tending to and so on—I did tell you about my trunk in the future, right?" Sirius nodded. "I got it the day before yesterday. Cedric's helping me set things up, but, a house elf would be handy."

"Kreacher," said Sirius, "Would you like to help Harry with his, err, flat?"

"Kreacher would be pleased," the elf answered, with a low bow.

"Great, then it's settled," said Harry, "And I might have something for you in a couple of days." His mind was already racing, devising a plan for recovering the fake locket from the cave. In the meantime, he had two elves to summon…

it was actually mid-afternoon before Harry and Cedric returned to the trunk. They had raided the Black library of some useful materials. Kreacher went straight to work, putting said books away in one of several cases Harry had conjured.

"Mum, dad," said Harry, "This is Kreacher."

"We remember him, Harry," said Lily.

"Harry Potter's parents," Kreacher croaked, seeming to study the portrait.

"Now… I need to set out some rules. You're not to ever use the word 'mudblood' again. You cannot insult my parents or my friends. Basically treat them with the same respect you show me. Is that clear?" Kreacher nodded. "That kind of thing is just wrong, it's the kind of thing that's keeping Wizarding society in the dark ages."

"Kreacher understands."

"Great. Like I said, there's something I plan to give you once I have it, but it may take a few days. Now, in the mean time…"

By supper time, the flat now had a proper kitchen, as well as a decent sized dining room. Harry sent Kreacher out to get supplies for the pantry, and the boys set to work on adding a few bedrooms. In the future, there were fourteen rooms on three levels at the height of use, with nearly twenty people sharing the space.

Harry quickly realized Cedric was a more than adequate student in both charms and transfiguration, and that moved things along much quicker than had he been working alone. Both had teamed up to build a fireplace, with Harry actually teaching Cedric a thing or two about conjuration. Of course, Cedric was already learning that considering he had completed his sixth year. However, Harry knew MUCH more than that.

"I'm awed watching you work, Harry," Cedric praised, "It's just amazing how much you know."

"Well, eleven years kind of does that right? Like, did you know this?" said Harry, taking a seat in one of the couches in front of the fire, "In some instances, Muggles can learn magic?"

"Bullocks!" Cedric swore as he also took a seat, "Impossible!"

"Yes, in most cases, that's true. But, there are very rare cases. I actually personally witnessed an example… Merlin, it would have been six years ago… I won't name any names, but… one of the guys staying in the trunk, he saved a man's life by giving him blood… Muggle-born as I remember. A week later, well, he started having bouts of accidental magic."

"Well… it does sound plausible, dear," said Lily from her portrait.

"Voldemort found out, and… well, it was a painful few weeks for me. It was shortly after that ugly incident that I perfected my Occlumency."

"But surely, the ministry of magic would have more documentation on incidents like that."

"Ced, remember what kind of a government we're dealing with. That's the WORST kind of thing they'd want to keep records of. The pure-blood movement would go spare!"

"But… surely, just transferring some of your blood wouldn't—"

"Cedric, magic is all around us. It's in every living thing. We've been given a gift of a great well of it, a strong concentration of it."

"I see where you're going," Lily cut in, "A witch or wizard's blood carries some of the concentration."

"Exactly. That's what the group of us thought, too. I mean, the guy wasn't all that powerful, but he could cast a few simple charms. I'm sure if he'd survived, he probably would have become proficient enough."

"What happened?"

"What do you think?" questioned Harry, darkly. Cedric only nodded, realizing he had touched a sore spot. The debate was ended when Kreacher popped back in, bringing with him a load of groceries.

"Looks like he bought out the store," Harry laughed, happy for the distraction.

Once dinner was over and done with, Harry finally turned his attention to the dark objects that rested in the second compartment of the trunk. They were all brought into the flat, and placed on the drawing table in the common room.

"What are those?" Cedric gestured to the two cabinets.

"Vanishing cabinets," said Harry, "In my sixth year, Draco fixed this one…" he gestured to the broken one, "Which was hidden in the Room of Requirement. Death Eaters were able to get into the school from the other one, which was at Borgin & Burke's, in Knockturn Alley. I mean, they aren't dark objects in themselves, and might be bloody useful."

"Looks like this one's still damaged," said Cedric.

"Yeah. I'm not worried about those right now. These on the other hand…" Harry gestured to Ravenclaw's diadem and Slytherin's locket. "I'll need to visit the Chamber of Secrets with Snape in the near future. I need at least four fangs from the dead basilisk, but I'll probably collect more. Thing is, he's gonna want to know why…"

"And you'll likely have to explain everything in minute detail."

"Remember, Harry, Severus and I were very close friends," Lily reminded, "Perhaps you could invite him to speak with me, he might like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure he would. But mum, do you forgive him? For calling you… what he did?"

"Of course I do."

"He'll definitely want to hear that," said Harry, "It was one thing that pained him the most. It's a bit late to be sending mail now, and Hedwig's likely gone hunting. First thing tomorrow, then. In the mean time…"

"What's that one?" Cedric pointed to the strange object that had somehow followed Harry home from the Room of Requirement.

"This one… I don't know what to make of it. When I was in the Room of Requirement, I knocked this over. When I went down to pick it up, the bloody thing gave me a shock. I didn't think nothing of it, but—"

"Sounds like it's imprinted itself on you," said James.

"That's why I've handled it so carefully now… I don't know if it's dangerous." Harry levitated the object with his hand. It somewhat resembled a model of the planet, with a set of rings going on two axis. Each ring had hundreds of runes inscribed on it. The sphere itself had numerous markings as well.

Then, Harry got an idea. Allowing the object to settle back on the table, he drew his wand, and tapped the object, saying, "Reveal your secrets." He was promptly thrown across the room by the resulting shock. "Err… maybe not," Harry ground out, rubbing the back of his head. His glasses had fell off his face, and now lay on his lap. His wand had gone flying, and clattered against the opposite wall.

"I'd put it back where you got it, Harry. Or turn it over to the Ministry. They'll be in a better position to make heads or tails of it," suggested Cedric.

"I'll put it back in the Room of Requirement when I visit the Chamber of Secrets."

With Cedric gone for the night, Harry slept fitfully. His dreams were again invaded, as he found himself back at the old house he had dreamt about the previous summer… or what was twelve years prior.

"Tell me again, Wormtail, how was it they managed to escape?" came the raspy voice that was Voldemort, still in his 'ugly baby' form.

"I do not know, Master, they… they disapparated… before I could cast the curse… forgive me…"

"Crucio."

Harry woke up to screams, and realized it was his own voice. Kreacher was already at his bedside, looking quite concerned.

"Is little master all right?"

"Just… fine, Kreacher," answered Harry, sitting up. 'Been a while since I've felt that one.' He rubbed his scar, which was still throbbing.

"Little master must lay down, Kreacher will be back with headache-potion," said Kreacher, and popped away.

He returned only seconds later, with two potions. "Kreacher brings a headache potion and dreamless sleep potion for master Harry."

"Thanks," said Harry, accepting the two potions. The elf gave a low bow, then left the room. Harry consumed both of the offered potions, and sleep quickly took him.


	4. When 'Potter' Became 'Harry'

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __MarryPoppinsBumbershoot, TheOneThatIsAddictedToHPfics, _Shadow of Flame_, fifespice, annv, __Rainbow2007. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_A second quick note, I may actually be elevating the rating to Mature, considering the material I am currently working on in chapter 11. Opinions on this?_

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Our favourite potions master gets a shocking eye opener in the affairs of the boy-who-lived; a floo connection is installed in the trunk; a brief discussion with Dumbledore ends up strangely…_

**4:WHEN 'POTTER' BECAME 'HARRY'  
Or, the taming of Severus Snape**

On July 6, Harry was a ball of emotions. He had written Snape two days before, and had finally received a short reply, stating, "_11 am, at your relatives. Do not make me wait_."

Harry had been sure to warn his aunt he was expecting a teacher, and any rude behaviour would have consequences… he could not afford to have this potential 'olive branch' screw up in any way shape or form.

Fortunately, when 11 am rolled around, Harry was waiting on the front step, as Snape appeared from under an invisibility cloak.

"Professor," said Harry.

"Potter… what in blazes do you—"

"Sir… really, I have someone who wants to see you. And there's some things I need to say—"

"I don't have all day to listen to your whining about—"

"If you will just… do you want to speak to my mum or not?" Harry blurted. Snape froze. "What did you say?"

"I have… I have a portrait of her… just come on, I'll show you." Harry was perhaps a little too enthusiastic, and the snarky potions professor sneered at the behaviour, but nonetheless, he was curious.

"Lead on, Potter. This had better not be a waste of my time, I was in the middle of brewing."

Less than a minute later, teacher and student were in Harry's room. Snape arched an eyebrow at the room, recognizing at once it had been modified magically. His eyes then fell on the extra trunk resting against the wall, alongside his normal school trunk. Harry was already pointing his wand at said trunk. "Addendum, Severus Snape." Like before, the lid glowed a green shade for a moment. This once again had Snape baffled. What was the brat playing at?

"This way, sir," said Harry, and he climbed into the trunk.

"Where did you manage to procure such a trunk, Potter?"

"Diagon Alley, of course," said Harry, as he stepped off the ladder, "Now that you're keyed to the wards, you can apparate in and out. I think that says something, does it not?"

"Indeed, Harry." Severus wheeled to meet green eyes belonging to someone he thought he would never see again. A strangled gasp escaped from the professor's mouth, as he was struck dumb for a moment.

"How did you get… Merlin's balls!"

"Professor, I wasn't joking. Now, I know you two might have some catching up to do, so I'll be… well, working in another part of the flat, so… take all the time you need. Oh, and if you need anything, call on Kreacher, he's around somewhere." Snape was too bewildered to answer. He simply stood there, seemingly mesmerized by the portrait before him.

About a half hour later, Harry heard a soft POP from the common room. Voices, and a few moments later, Cedric appeared. "How'd he take it?"

"Froze. I think he was floored when he realized I wasn't making it up. They're still talking?"

"Yeah. I actually saw Snape laugh. D'you know how eerie that is?"

"Tell me about it," said Harry, "But… I think he's needed this. All the dragon shit he's had to put up with, he's more than earned it. If I can, I'm gonna get the portrait copied somehow, so Lily can visit him. Might make a nice Christmas gift, I think."

"Lunch is about ready, master Harry." Both teens turned to see Kreacher standing in the doorway. "Will master Snape be staying as well?"

"Ask him… he's welcome, of course," said Harry, "Although it won't surprise me if he declines… never stayed for meals at Grimmauld Place." Kreacher gave a light bow, then vanished with a gentle POP. His demeanour was changing rapidly, and Harry knew the environment had something to do with it, along with the kindness Harry showed him.

The flat was decorated in light woods, with thick carpet in the rooms. Large windows were charmed to reflect the outdoors as it would be at that time of the day, including the current weather. Most of the furniture was of dark woods, such as cherry or mahogany, with leather coverings. Harry had went all out the first time around, so there was no reason he couldn't do it again.

Entering the common room, they found Snape still speaking in soft tones with Lily. Harry cleared his throat, and the professor turned around. "We're having lunch, sir. You're welcome to join us. I can bring the portrait into the dining room." Snape only nodded, so Harry gestured with his hand, floating the portrait off the wall. Snape watched with rapt fascination, as it was guided into the dining room. "There. Now come have lunch with us… I know you're dying to know how I just did that, right?" he couldn't help but let a smirk come across his face.

"Indeed, Potter," said Snape. With that, the three of them stepped into the dining room, taking seats at the table. Kreacher appeared bringing a large tureen of chicken noodle soup, a platter of sandwiches, and crackers. A pitcher of pumpkin juice was already on the table. The three of them wasted no time accepting generous helpings of soup.

"Do tell," Snape finally began, "Where you have learned to cast wandlessly."

"I knew you'd want to know that one," Harry grinned, "But I have to start at the beginning. First off. I know we don't get along well, but sir, thanks. I know the vow you've taken with Dumbledore, and I mean it, I appreciate having you watch over me."

"How? How do you know about that?"

"Because of something which will happen about eleven years from now. Or did, because I lived through it. Professor, I came back. I don't know how, but… I wanted to end it and I stepped through the veil at the department of mysteries and I came back! Somehow I wasn't allowed to die!" Harry suddenly found himself overwhelmed, as memories crowded his mind. He took a deep breath, and pushed them back into their proper places.

All the while, he could feel the professor pushing with his own mind, so he looked up and locked eyes, giving Snape a nod. Snape arched an eyebrow, but pushed ahead with trepidation. Potter had just given him permission to peak into the boy's mind? How did the brat know? Occlumency was a rare art, after all. Yet, the memories he was seeing were organized. This was not the mind of a typical fourteen-going-on-fifteen-year-old student. This was the mind of a strong Occlumens.

The memories he was being shown floored him. Particularly the visions of him killing Dumbledore… that had felt like a bludger to the stomach. What would possess him to do something such as that? Sure, he had done some despicable things as a Death Eater, but he would never dream of committing an act that dark… would he?

Deciding he had seen enough, Snape pulled back out of Harry's mind. The boy was still looking up, unblinking, but had a gentle smile on his face.

"You defeated the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. What would have been, err, eleven days ago, where I came from. When it was all over, I just… didn't want to live anymore. Voldemort took everything that ever meant anything to me. The veil was my only way out, and… it might have been a coward's way, but I took it. Death looked pretty good after everything was said and done."

"You're gonna ask him a wizard's oath, right Harry?" questioned Cedric. Snape, however, was way ahead of him. He drew out his wand, and holding it in front of him, said, "I, Severus Tobias Snape, swear by my magic, to never reveal any of what has been shared here today." A golden thread of magic wafted to hover above Harry's head.

"So mote it be," said Harry, holding his wand in front of him. The thread vanished into him. "Sir, I trust you."

"You do understand, Potter—Harry, I am expected to uphold appearances at Hogwarts," said Snape. Harry nodded, "Yeah, I'm aware. Draco and his cronies… I know he's your godson and so on. But really… I think he needs to understand exactly what he's getting himself into. He was marked the summer before his sixth year."

"Yes, as Lucius is planning," said Snape.

"Couldn't you give him a dose of reality? Show him what it really means to follow Voldemort?"

"Do not use the Dark Lord's name, Harry," said Snape. Harry nodded, remembering the risks.

"Sorry, it's just out of habit… although I should know. In what would have been my seventh year, he put a taboo curse on it. A good number of the Order were caught because of it."

"Has there been any word as to what the Dark Lord is up to?" questioned Cedric. Snape only shook his head.

"I got a vision a couple of days ago. He was questioning Pettigrew about his failure in the grave yard. The rat got a does of the Cruciatus curse."

The conversation was interrupted, when Hedwig flew into the room, to land on the table in front of Harry. She had a letter, as well as a copy of the Daily Prophet. Harry opened the letter first.

_Harry,_

_Dumbledore's trying to convince the government Voldemort still lives. I'm afraid it isn't going well. I remember what you told me about your 'first time around', and this may be an indication it may still proceed in that direction._

_On a happier note, I have received notification that I will face the Wizengamot on the charges filed fourteen years ago against me; they intend to use Veritaserum, so it's likely I should have my name cleared then._

_Be safe, Harry,_

_Sirius_

"Great," Harry snorted, "Why is it dragon shit somehow finds a way to repeat itself?" He opened up the paper:

_IS DUMBLEDORE STILL THE MAN FOR THE JOB?_

_Pundits say his time has come and gone_

_After recent comments made by the Supreme Mugwump of the Wizengamot regarding the death of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named some fifteen years ago, his integrity is being called into question. The leader of the Wizengamot and headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, has gone on record, stating he believes the Dark Lord still exists, although still in shade form, and is attempting to regain his body._

_Such an attempt was made at the end of June during the third task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament at the school, so he says. Yet, with no collaborating testimony to confirm this unlikely story, this reporter has to also question the mental stability of the headmaster._

_The ministry of magic has not weighed in on the discussion officially, but unofficial word from sources close to the minister do indicate, 'steps are being taken'. Which does beg to question, is Albus Dumbledore's days as head of the Wizengamot numbered?_

_Your diligent reporter will certainly keep abreast of this story, for it will likely be a news-worthy item for some time._

_Rita Skeeter_

"Uhg, I'm gonna hex that vile woman into oblivion, I swear!" Harry vowed.

"I thought Hermione had her stuffed in a jar somewhere," noted Cedric.

"Yeah, me too. So that means Umbridge will be teaching at Hogwarts… again."

"We'll just have to drive her from the school, then," said Cedric, "You did have that defence club, right?"

"What sort of defence club?" inquired Snape.

"Well, it was essentially a replacement for Dark Arts Defence. That foul woman wouldn't teach us anything useful, so we resorted to teaching ourselves. Of course, since I was no longer a student and wasn't supposed to be there… I was there in disguise. Still, everyone knew who I was… particularly once I cast my Patronus charm. Professor, please help protect the school this year… that woman's a mean toad who takes sick pleasure out of torturing students."

"And why didn't anyone report such abuses to McGonagall?"

"She virtually RAN the school, professor. She would have sacked anyone who spoke out about it," Harry retorted.

"And the picture becomes a little clearer," Snape understood. His mind was already working in overdrive, thinking of ways to make life difficult for the new Dark Arts Defence professor, should Harry's prediction become true.

"Well, this makes things, a little more complicated," Harry let out a sigh, then brought things back on track. "Professor, there's another reason I asked you here today. It concerns a dead basilisk…"

"Pot—Harry… do you realize how valuable the ingredients from this are?" questioned Snape, fighting very hard to hold his indifferent mask on his face. Inside, he was astounded at the great beast that still lay half-submerged in a pool, deep within the Chamber of Secrets.

"I have somewhat of an idea, sir," answered Harry, "I figured… you'd know more about harvesting it and such. And sir, consider this a gift… I've got more than enough money."

"Indeed," said Snape, inclining his head. He reached into the pockets of his robes, and pulled out a miniaturized pair of dragon hide gloves, which he returned to normal size. He slid them on.

"In the meanwhile… I need some of its fangs. You saw the memory of the Horcruxes?"

"I did. Have you collected any of them?"

"Two, so far. I know where the rest of them are, it's just a matter of making time to collect them. I'll need basilisk venom to destroy them. That, or the sword of Gryffindor, and I strongly doubt professor Dumbledore would let me borrow it, at least not without an explanation."

"You really killed this, Harry?" questioned Cedric. Harry nodded, and gestured to the spot high atop the façade. "Right up there. It got me with a fang, though… without Fawkes, I would've died."

"Most unfortunate the eyes were destroyed," Snape mused, "They would have been worth a fortune by themselves."

By supper time, they had harvested most of the useful parts from the dead snake, and exited the chamber the back way, which led into the Dark Forest. Snape returned to his quarters back at the school, while Harry and Cedric returned to the trunk back at Privet Drive.

Most important, however, Harry had gained yet another ally, although it would not appear that way while he was actually at Hogwarts. Appearances were everything, after all. Still, Snape understood there was an open-door policy in the trunk, so he could visit with Lily any time he wanted to… "If you can put up with a cheeky brat that calls himself her son," he had drawled, tongue-in-cheek. That had gotten the corners of the professor's lips to twitch just a tad.

"Was that an attempt at sarcasm, Potter?"

"Perhaps," Harry smirked, "But I did learn from the best."

"Ah, but a hot-headed Gryffindor such as yourself won't quite understand the subtleties in the art of sarcasm, Potter." Again, the corners of the professor's mouth twitched, fighting the indifferent mask he had firmly in place.

Once supper was over with, Harry decided to tackle the floo connection. He'd asked Snape for permission to floo call his office as a test, which had been granted, although Snape was curious to know how Harry planned on hooking it up. The professor was in for a surprise. Cedric, of course, was hovering over the boy as he worked, watching with fascination, as he conducted the various charms and spells to connect a fireplace up to the floo network.

"Now, of course, I could have set things up for a private network, between just a few places… that sort of thing became common in my future. The main floo network was risky… loads of people were taken that way."

"Taken?"

"Captured."

"Right."

"For now, a regular connection will work, but likely in the future we'll have to change it… now… to connect the floo with the trunk wards… don't want Voldemort to be able to floo in here, right?"

"Err, no."

"Right, that will just about do it, then," said Harry. He'd already purchased a pot of floo powder, which now hung from a bracket at the side of the fireplace. He took a pinch of powder, tossed it into the fire, then called out, "Fire call Hogwarts, Severus Snape's office!" He stuck his head into the green flames, and quickly found himself looking out into the potions master's office.

"You surprise me yet again, Potter," said Snape.

"And you doubted me… oh, the shame of it!" Harry mock-wailed.

"All right, so it works. Be gone, so I can get back to my brewing."

"Good night, professor." Harry pulled his head back out of the flames, and they returned to their usual orange colour.

"Now the big test." Harry this time took a fist full of floo powder, and standing, tossed the powder into the fire, which again roared a brilliant green. "Number twelve, Grimmauld Place!" he called out, then stepped into the green flames.

The trip was every bit as chaotic as the last time he had used the floo—he never did seem to master the subtle art of floo-travel. He was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of the kitchen.

"Harry! Merlin, where did you from?" questioned Sirius.

"My trunk, of course!"

"You… you have a floo connection to your trunk." Harry nodded vigorously. "My, my, pup, you are wasting no time at all, now, are you?"

"Nope. I helped Snape harvest the basilisk today… I think it was Christmas come early for him—"

"You spent the day with Snevillus?!"

"Sirius, please. I need his help… and… he was pretty decent to me today. I need you guys to try and get along. Please, promise me you'll try." Sirius nodded, then said, "Okay, pup, I promise to do my best."

"It's all I can hope for, right?" Just then, the flames roared green again, and Cedric's face appeared in the flames. "Harry, I gotta go. Dad needs help with something."

"Okay. Good night, Ced."

"'night, Harry. See you in the morning." With that, his face vanished from the flames.

"He's good for you," said Sirius, as Harry pulled up a seat at the table.

"Yeah. The one thing I wished so long I could undo… and I did it. It's like… there was a temporal intervention or something. Either way… I hope we can get bonded someday."

"I'm sure you will. He's been to visit you practically every day now, hasn't he?" Harry nodded. "Just be careful. Don't let him—"

"Sirius. I know. I'm still twenty six in the head remember?"

"True." Both Harry and Sirius looked up, hearing the front door.

"Stay here." Sirius got up, but it was a wasted motion. Albus Dumbledore framed the door to the hallway.

"Harry… how is it you come to be here?" The headmaster looked to be a mixture of emotions, ranging from confusion to slight anger. Harry didn't miss a beat. "Visiting my godfather, of course. Good to see he's finally getting a trial."

"Harry, why are you away from your relatives? Surely you know it's not safe for you to be out and about on your own."

"Professor, if I'm not safe with Sirius, then who can I trust? Surely you can't expect me to sit in my room all summer?"

"Yet, I certainly don't like the idea of you travelling from Surrey to London on your own. Harry, there are those who will want to do you harm, not necessarily just those who side with Voldemort. You do understand that?"

"You mean like Rita Skeeter? I'll deal with her in my own way." He suddenly put a hand to his forehead, a strong feeling of vertigo welling up.

"Does Harry Potter want some tea?" Winky's question sounded like it came through a long hose.

"What?" Even his own voice sounded… weird.

"Harry, are you all right?"

"What's wrong?"

"HARRY?!" It was the last thing he truly comprehended, as everything seemed to warp before his eyes, as if he were apparating somewhere. Yet, he had not. His vision faded to complete blackness, while a tremendous roar filled his ears. Next thing he knew, it felt like he was being whipped about the arms and legs, and the last thing he remembered, was colliding with a soft body, then the ground.


	5. Malachai and the Outlander

Malachai and the Outlander

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ fifespice, StoryTagger, _Darkwill0w_, _jappeth_, ohhhdear, nxkris, and Singerinthesilence__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_WARNING: Coarse language._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Malachai has a most unpleasant __start to his 18__th__ birthday; Isaac loses one of his followers; Harry makes a few new friends…_

**5:MALACHAI AND THE OUTLANDER  
or… how a wizard arrives in Gatlin**

**August 15, 1983, Cornfield outside of Gatlin, Nebraska**

Twelve days. It had been twelve days since Malachai had laid eyes on a most disturbing drawing. At least, it was disturbing to him. Even though he had shredded the manila paper into tiny pieces, he still could not get the image out of his head. For, it was known between him and Isaac, Sarah Gilman's drawings foretold a future event.

Her drawings had foretold the arrival of a pair of interlopers, unbelievers, who would challenge He who walks behind the rows. In fact, more than God had been challenged; Malachai's friendship with Isaac had been sorely tested as well, resulting in each almost being killed at the hands of the other.(1)

Her drawing twelve days ago had been quite simple and right to the point, with only two crudely drawn figures. One of them lay prone on the ground in the corn, quite bloody. The figure had red hair. The other was sitting up, with a stick pointed at said figure, although this figure also appeared bloody. This individual had messy black hair, and green eyes. Malachai understood exactly what it meant: he would be killed by an outlander, and quite savagely. The question was, when?

The corn was recovering from the hell-storm of fire brought on by the outlanders, but it would take a while, it was understood. Even God had limits, after all. But even today, new shoots were pushing their way up through the charred earth, although they would bear no fruit this season; it was too late.

Malachai blew out a breath as he walked slowly through the rows of ripe corn. It was still early in the morning, with the sun just starting to creep up on the eastern horizon. He turned eighteen today, meaning just one more year before he partook in the coming-of-age ceremony, and went to _Him_. Still lots to contemplate, and much work to do.

He had been walking without any real direction, but found himself near the service station. Nearly a month ago, they had killed the owner, Chester Diehl, as they assumed he had passed information to the outlanders allowing them to get into Gatlin. His body still lay stuffed under a car in the service bay; his blood would not be allowed to pollute the corn: God commanded it be so.

He turned around to start heading back toward the clearing. It had not been touched by the fire—God had seen to it the most sacred part of the corn field had remained intact. The other boys would be up soon, and there was certainly work to be done, never mind the morning meeting.

His train of thought was interrupted, as the air seemed to awaken with a strange charge, almost like that of an approaching thunderstorm. Malachai could feel the fine hairs on his arms lifting under his shirt. It was… not normal. Not a cloud in the sky, not even a breath of wind? Instinctually, he drew the butcher knife he carried in a home-made sheath on his hip, brandishing it in front of him.

Then, everything turned upside down. With a deafening roar, and a tremendous CRACK, something slammed into the boy from behind, sending him flying forward. He felt his right leg buckle and a sharp pain told him it was busted, but he was still falling… forward… face first into the narrow path between the rows. Another sharp pain pierced his right side… a loud THUD as something heavy hit the ground close by… and something soft but heavy pinned him to the ground. His vision faded to black.

What the in Merlin's balls had happened?! His body felt like it had been tossed around like a sack of potatoes, that was all there was to it. His arms stung, his legs stung, his face stung, and his head still felt light, as if it were full of cobwebs. Harry could feel he was laying partially on the ground—how had he come to be there? He still did not open his eyes, but focused inward, intent on first calming his mind. A sense of foreboding told him he would need every ounce of calm he could get for the next little while. He was preparing for battle.

A few seconds later, he dared open his eyes a crack. Hair… red hair? Ron? No, the hair's too long, although it was the right colour. He allowed the world to come into proper focus, or at least, the best it could, considering he was missing his glasses. "Accio glasses," he spoke, holding out his hand. It took a few moments, but the missing eyewear snapped into them. Sliding them on, he was at last able to see properly, and take in his surroundings. By the amount of daylight, he figured he was on the other side of the world, as it was just getting dark back in England.

He had obviously slammed into someone… a boy slightly older than him, by the looks of it. How had he landed in a corn field, though? Looking behind him, he could see where a long trail of the crop had been shredded, as if he had crash landed from a low angle. To his surprise, his trunk had made the journey too, and lay about ten feet off to the side. Would Cedric still be there? What about Kreacher?

Giving himself a mental okay, he turned his attention back to the boy who lay partially under him. Harry carefully shifted off him, to have a closer look. The boy's right leg was jutting out at an ugly angle; Harry knew immediately it had been shattered painfully. More worrisome, a pool of blood was forming near his right side—the point of a knife jutting through the flesh was all Harry needed to know. The boy might possibly die if he did not act. Surprisingly, his wand had stayed put in the waistband of his pants, and he drew it. 'Shouldn't be magic detectors here,' he thought, then pointed it at the boy. "Petrificus Totalus!" He then grabbed the now paralyzed boy by the shirt sleeve, and apparated into the trunk.

"Harry? What happened?" said Lily, looking alarmed, from her portrait.

"I don't know, mum, I just… I just crashed into a corn field. I hit this kid… unlucky… Merlin's balls! Kreacher!" With a slight POP, the elf appeared, giving Harry a light bow. "Little master Harry call for Kreacher?"

"Yes, I did. I need a blood replenishing potion from my stores at once." He gestured to the injured boy. Kreacher popped away, and immediately returned with not only the blood replenishing potion, but several other items, which Harry looked at curiously.

"One of them's essence of Murtlap," said Lily, "It'll help with the scratches and cuts, for the both of you."

"Does master realize he is bleeding?" the elf gestured at Harry's left forearm, which indeed was bleeding profusely. Harry gestured with his hand at said cut. "Episkey." The cut instantly healed.

Now, he turned his attention to the boy who lay paralyzed on the common room floor. The leg needed fixing first, and with a gesture from Harry's hands, it was done. It had taken a fair bit of power, and a slightly more complicated healing spell, but Harry had been forced to learn that one, having to heal himself more times than he could count.

"Master Harry, this boy may die very soon," Kreacher warned, seeming to assess the 'patient'.

"Blood replenishing potion."

"He is a Muggle, master Harry," the elf warned, "Muggles are not handling such potions well."

"What do I do?! Bloody FUCK I don't want this kid to die here—because of me!"

"Harry, in the Muggle world, people are given blood transfusions all the time—" Lily began.

It was like déjà vu. He found himself six years into the past—or was it five years into the future? Dean had had to give a guy a blood transfusion for exactly that reason. Jeremy, wasn't that the guy's name?

Harry only nodded, understanding it would be the only way. The large knife protruding from his right side was quickly banished, and the injury healed. Now he was turned over, so Harry could get a good look at him. The boy could easily pass for one of the Weasleys, his ginger red hair falling about the shoulders, and a face full of freckles. He was dressed in no nonsense clothes that looked rather old-fashioned. Harry banished the shirt at once, to make sure there were no further injuries.

The boy was looking very white, given the loss of blood. Then, drawing on his memory of the incident so long before, he took the boy's left hand, making a long cut across the palm. He did likewise with his own, then mashed the two cuts together. Then he hissed, reverting to parseltongue, _"My blood, freely given, so that you may live…" _A red swirl of magic enveloped the joined hands, and Harry could feel his own magic at work, pushing his blood through the cut to the other boy.

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

"_This is my last warning—"_

"_Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry Please—I'll do anything—"_

"_Stand aside—stand aside, girl—"(2)_

_A brilliant green flash filled the scene, accompanied by a piercing scream._

Malachai's eyes snapped open, but he quickly realized that was the ONLY thing he could move. It was as if he were a statue. 'Was that a dream? Am I still dreaming now?' He could feel a warm substance on his hand, and a glance confirmed it was blood. Another boy had his hand clasped in his own, a trickle of blood was flowing down both their forearms.

He would have screamed if he could have, taking in the boy doing—whatever he was doing. Some blasphemous ritual! The boy would pay for violating him so! His anger was rising rapidly, but it was equally dispelled, seeing the boy's face. It was the other figure from the drawing, with messy black hair.

As eyes met, Malachai found himself looking into the greenest pair of eyes he had ever saw, blinking behind round, gold-rimmed glasses. "My blood, freely given, so that you may live," the other boy spoke, with a strong English accent. What?! He shouted in his head. Yet, the strange vision he had just had… it had not been his own. His body actually felt strange, slightly… foreign? His memories were for some reason clouded… memories of last week… the nearly fatal fight between him and Isaac… all hazy at best.

"Calming draft, please, Kreacher," spoke the boy. Then Malachai realized they were not the only two people in the room. There was a light POP, and whatever it was, he had only caught a faint glimpse of it, as it vanished.

"I didn't mean to slam into you," the boy spoke, finally withdrawing his hand, and gesturing with his other, "Episkey." A shot of white-heat scored across his palm, and he could see the cut healing as if by… magic? The boy repeated it on his own wound. "Evansco." The blood vanished from the boy's palm and forearm. There was another POP, and the strangest creature Malachai had ever laid eyes on appeared, as if out of nowhere. 'I've gone to hell,' was the only thing that crossed his mind.

"This is Kreacher," said the boy, gesturing to the being.

"Kreacher is bringing calming draught," said the little beast, giving a short bow.

"Great, thanks. This is a calming draught," said the boy, "I won't let you out of the body bind until you drink it. Blink once if you understand."

Malachai debated his options. The boy was obviously a little smaller than he was, surely he could overpower him… then what? He had no clue where he was, for that matter. His instincts were at war, but he really couldn't do anything until he was let out of whatever demonic enchantment that had him bound like a statue. He blinked once. He found his mouth being gently pried open, and the potion dumped into it. He would have gagged, had he been able to; it tasted like burnt socks. The boy at last stood, holding a stick in front of him, and whispered, "Finite".

Malachai realized he could move again, and began to sit up, but not before the boy had muttered something, and along with the calming sensation that was already crossing his body, he felt suddenly… happier? The boy extended a hand to him; he took it, and was helped to his feet.

"I'm sorry about all this, I don't quite know what to make of it."

"Who… who are you?" Malachai questioned. He had wanted to shout the demand of this… this outlander, yet… found he could not muster the anger. Whatever the boy had given him, it was a most powerful agent.

"I guess introductions are a place to start. I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"I am Malachai." Suddenly, there was a loud BANG that came from the corner of the room.

"Harry. Intruders," James warned from his portrait.

"Friends of yours?" inquired Harry, gesturing again with his hand. There was a click.

"Where are we?"

"This," said Harry, gesturing with his hand in a circular motion, "Is my trunk. As far as where we actually are… it would be wherever I landed… which is?"

"Gatlin. Gatlin Nebraska," answered Malachai, looking himself over. Harry noticed, saying, "I hurt you pretty bad, you almost died."

"What is it you did to me?"

"I gave blood," answered Harry, "You stabbed yourself with your knife." He gestured to the floor, where a puddle of blood still remained. "Evansco." It vanished.

"What… what are you?"

"I am a wizard. See, watch." Harry again gestured with his hand, causing a comfortable chair to suddenly appear on the floor in front of them. Malachai had to blink several times, unsure if this were some kind of trick, or not. Harry, of course, could see where the boy was going and put a stop to it, saying, "I assure you, it's as real and true as we both live and breathe." With a second wave of his hand, the chair vanished.

"Harry…" James was flicking his eyes toward the map that lay on the drawing table. Harry obliged, stepping over to the drawing table. He had of course, completed his improved Marauder's map several days before, and now it proved to be most useful. It was currently focused outside the trunk, and indicated at least fifteen individuals gathered around it.

"Bloody hell," Harry swore. Malachai too, gazed at the large parchment, and could make out names.

"Isaac. He will be most displeased."

"Who is Isaac?"

"Our leader, our teacher."

"Of what?" questioned Harry. Malachai seemed confused as to how to explain it. He wanted to scream and yell at this boy, yet, the powerful agent still held him under its spell… and the ginger-haired enforcer was somewhat curious, if not perhaps a little unnerved by the idea of 'magic'. "Look, if your friends are a threat…"

"Isaac will sacrifice you to the corn," he could barely ground out. The effect was wearing off.

"The corn? What kind of rubbish is that?"

"Do not blaspheme He who walks behind the rows," said Malachai, his voice low, his eyes narrowing.

"Harry…" A second loud BANG echoed from where the access to the lid was. Harry nodded again, appraising Malachai. What was wrong with him? Another enchantment? Curse? Death Eaters? The dark arts? Either way, something was very wrong with this boy. He suddenly thrust out his hand forcefully, shouting with deafening volume, "FINITE INCANTATUM!" The force of the spell knocked Malachai off his feet.

Isaac had saw the flash of light, and heard the crack. It had taken him and a group of the children several minutes to reach the site of the phenomenon. A large wooden trunk rested at a strange angle, seeming to have slammed into the ground. Several splotches of blood lay on the ground, yet there were no bodies.

Attention then turned to the trunk. How did it come to be in the corn? After a bit of poking and prodding, one of the older boys in the group got bold enough to try and open the lid. It wouldn't budge an inch.

"Allow me to try," spoke a second boy, who was armed with a crowbar. The first boy stepped back from the trunk, while the second made a more forceful attempt at opening the trunk with a crowbar. Once again, he was foiled; the trunk remained securely locked. Then, abruptly, Isaac felt a cold shiver run through him, and in his mind's eye, a fine thread snapped, one end of it shrivelling away. One of his most trusted followers had been taken from the fold.

"Kreacher… make sure he stays put. I'm going outside," Harry decided.

"Be careful, dear," Lily warned, "You still don't know where we are."

"I will, mum." He gestured at himself, and vanished. There was a light POP less than a second later.

He reappeared a short distance outside the trunk, just beyond the group laying siege to it. He quickly discovered that they too were kids, perhaps half of them looked to be about the same age as Malachai. The question was, how to deal with them. As yet another boy was about to make an even more forceful attempt on the trunk, he made a decision. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." The group of kids all wheeled to face the invisible speaker.

"Show yourself, invisible speaker!" a boy of perhaps twelve commanded. He had short black hair, and a pale face that belonged on an adult, not a child.

"Now why would I want to do that?" Harry laughed, "I have the advantage, do I not?" Harry focused on the boy-speaker, pushing forward with a careful probe into the boy's memories. Astoundingly, he was thrown back by a force that could easily match that of Voldemort. At exactly the same time, he heard an unearthly voice speaking clearly inside his head, "_Mine. You will be mine. Your blood shall feed the corn…_"

'That would be Isaac,' Harry guessed, slamming up his mental defences. There was definitely something off about this entire scene. Best thing for the moment, was to get the kids away from his trunk. A diversion, perhaps… Harry gestured with his hand at the wall of corn about twenty yards away, whispering, "Incendio."

As the group stampeded off to deal with the instant inferno, Harry slipped back over to the trunk. He miniaturized it, then seeing the makings of a service station a short distance away, headed in that direction. He didn't dare apparate, as he was up to this point unfamiliar with the area.

The service station was unexpectedly deserted, and Harry quickly found out why. The owner had been beaten badly, his body lay dead in the pit of the service bay. It was covered with corn plants, and his right arm, bent grotesquely away at an unnatural angle, held in its grasp a corncob crucifix. The scene unnerved Harry somewhat—sure, he had seen enough killings, but this… this was beyond that. Gesturing with his wand, he extracted the man's body from the pit, and levitated it outside.

"I don't know who you were, but may you find peace on the next great adventure," said Harry. He directed his wand at the man, saying, "Incendio."

While this was going on, Malachai had regained his feet, and was watching the map. He could plainly see the people outside, all with neat little labels over the spots which represented them. He followed Harry, as he stood facing the group of kids. Then something happened that sent the kids running, and Harry the opposite way. The service station was next, where Harry seemed to take a few minutes. Would he find the body of Judas—no, his name was Chester. Chester Diehl, Malachai remembered.

"You look like an older version of Molly Weasley's son," said Lily, from her portrait.

"How is it you speak from a portrait?"

"We had it made, dear," answered Lily, "Magical portraits allow a witch or wizard to continue to give advice and support after their owners pass on."

"So you are dead?"

"Afraid so," said James.

"I am Lily, and this is James."

"Harry's parents," Malachai guessed. The resemblance was too clear, after all. Harry was a virtual carbon copy of his father, except for the eyes. They belonged to his mother. Malachai too, had loving parents. But that had all ended three years ago. Three years ago, he had listened to the boy-preacher. Three years ago, he had been bewitched and enthralled, coerced into doing despicable things. At least Harry had not been responsible for his parents' deaths.

A soft POP drew him out of his thoughts.

"Well? What happened, dear?" questioned Lily.

"I hid the trunk. They shouldn't be able to find it again. Disillusioned and all… they'd have to literally run into it to find it," said Harry, "I was delayed though… horrible thing happened to the owner of a service station."

"The blame lays at my feet," spoke Malachai, quietly. Harry looked at the teen darkly for a moment, then only nodded. There were evil forces at work, that was clear.

"Do you regret it?"

"I have much to regret. He is persuasive to a boy, you must understand."

"Who is 'he'?" questioned James.

"He who walks behind the rows."

"A deity of the corn. Now there's a new one," said James.

"Kreacher, would you mind making some tea? This might be a lengthy explanation, I think." The elf gave a low bow, and hurried off through the dining room. Harry levitated the portrait of his parents off the wall, then led Malachai into the dining room.

"Was… was this all created by magic?"

"Every scrap of it," supplied Harry, "My boyfriend helped out a ton, but—"

"Boyfriend?"

"Err… um… probably shouldn't have mentioned that…"

"No matter."

"But… oh bloody hell! Cedric!" Harry blurted, as it all came crashing down around him. He had been sent to the other side of the pond at a minimum, to some place called Gatlin, where the children were possessed by some demonic force… he flew back out into the common room, grabbed a pinch of floo powder, tossed it into the fire, and called out, "Fire-call Number Twelve Grimmauld Place!" Nothing happened. "What. The. FUCK!!" He tried again, this time to professor Snape's floo, with the same result. The situation was getting graver. He found himself again having to resort memories that had crowded his mind. It took nearly a half-minute before he was collected again. There was no use panicking, after all. It would do no one any good.

"How was it you collided with me in the first place?" questioned Malachai. Harry nodded, making his way back to the dining room table, where Kreacher had poured two cups of tea.

"Sugar and milk if you like," said Harry, gesturing at the tea service, trying to again calm his mind. It was getting increasingly difficult. The incident of the past half-hour was beyond bizarre. "Accio dicta-quill and parchment!" spoke Harry, and seconds later, said required items floated into his outstretched hands.

"Best to start where all this dragon shit began. I had floo'ed to Grimmauld Place… talking to Sirius… Dumbledore showed up… we were talking. Then I started feeling like… vertigo? That's it… and my hearing went really funny, like people were talking to me through a hose. Next was like I was apparating, but not… then, I was laying in the corn field."

"Equally important question to ask, how did your trunk manage to follow you? Considering you floo'ed from here in the first place," James pointed out.

"Floo? I don't follow," said Malachai, trying to make sense of the 'wizard talk'.

"No, you wouldn't… it's like magical transportation by fireplace," Harry explained. Malachai nodded (although he really wasn't fully understanding), then said, "I am grateful for what you have done for me."

"It was the right thing to do. I guess it's the 'saving people' streak I have in me," said Harry, with a slight grin. He then thought of something. "Mum, dad, did anything strange happen here in the trunk, before we apparated in?"

"As a matter of fact, something made a loud grinding noise. It came from the room you plan on making into the library. It sounded like… like something starting to roll, speeding up… then coming to a stop," Lily remembered. The dicta-quote quill was busily scribbling down the comments.

"You have saved me, but the other children should be released from this false God, I see now."

"I plan on doing exactly that, Malachai. Whatever it is, the thing possessing the rest of the kids has to be banished, if not destroyed. Mum, any suggestions what it might be?"

"Not without a proper explanation, Harry. Maybe it would be best if Malachai would start from the beginning. What happened to you?"

"It is only a fair expectation," answered the ginger-haired teen, and after refilling his cup, began giving a detailed account of how the Children of the Corn came to be. It was a chilling revelation for Harry, as the boy across from him admitted to dozens of cold-blooded murders over the past three years. It included the murder of a boy of perhaps twelve or thirteen, because he had decided not to follow the teachings of the boy-preacher.

Harry leaned back in the chair, putting it up on two legs, the back resting against the wall. Surely, with the level of dark activity, the local council of Magic would have intervened. Why had they not?

"Malachai… have you ever seen things happen you couldn't understand? I mean, above and beyond what you've told me. Things similar to, err, what I've done here, for example."

"No, nothing I recall."

"There should be a Midwest council of magic… they should have become aware of something like this. If not the Canadian Ministry of Magic—err, the Wizarding government," said Harry, seeing Malachai's confused expression.

"You have your own government?"

"Very much so," answered James, "You see, our world is hidden from Muggles—non-magical folk. So, we had to set up a body that would govern… make the laws and so on."

"Just revealing as much as we are is actually breaking the law," said Harry, "But I don't really care one way or the other. But worst case scenario, I'll notify the ministry of magic in Toronto."

"There is one house," said Malachai, "A large farmhouse we can never get near, about two miles outside of town."

"What happens when you try?"

"I cannot explain. It is—"

"Like you've forgotten an errand?" questioned Lily. Malachai nodded.

"Muggle repelling charm," said Harry, "There's a Wizarding family living there."

"Surely we would have seen them…"

"They would have no need to come into a Muggle town," Lily explained, "We have our own communities, stores, and so on. Witches and wizards tend not to mingle with Muggles more than they have to."

"And with a Muggle-repelling charm, none of you would get on the property," Harry pointed out, "And if they've got any skill at all, the house would most likely have wards on it as well. So even if you managed to get through the Muggle repelling charms, most home wards are based on intent. You would have found yourself unceremoniously dropped at the edge of the property, and that would be a 'mild' ejection. The most severe could result in death, although I've only seen that once, and that was a truly dark family in question."

"Kreacher is making lunch soon," the elf announced.

"Bloody hell… tempus," said Harry, extending his index finger. '11:30 am' wafted from the end. They had been talking that long? No wonder he was feeling fatigued. It had been nearing 10 pm back in England.

"Wait here… dicta-quill stop," said Harry. The quill ceased writing, and dropped to the parchment, while Harry left the room. He went into his room, and picked a vial of pepper-up-potion from his stores.

During lunch, Harry remembered the mention of the Gilman twins.

"Sarah and Job… the twins… they aren't believers, you said?"

"No. Isaac believes Sarah is a seer."

"She can see the future?" Harry arched an eyebrow.

"She draws. The things in the pictures come true."

"A seer indeed," said Lily, "Gifted with Divination."

"Div—" Malachai began.

"Divination, the telling of fortunes," Harry explained, "Some people I know believe it's a load of rubbish… but our teacher DID tell two real prophecies, one of which came true, the other WILL come true. Both of them were about me."

"How so?"

"It's something I don't want to get into right now, but it's something you will have to know sooner rather than later. Being friends with me carries a certain amount of risk."

"You regard me as your friend?"

"Of course!" Harry was astounded at that comment. "Why would I not? Mate, you're not the first one to be taken for a ride by those who practice the dark arts. Consider yourself lucky… far too many are beyond saving."

Harry fell silent, still thinking of the teen who sat across from him. This boy, rather than finishing high school and preparing for university, had been used as nothing better than an enforcer for the boy-preacher. By the sounds of it, most of the younger kids were terrified of him. Sure, the older kids followed him, but most likely also out of fear. 'So, this boy-preacher, Isaac—would be Voldemort… and Malachai would be—or was—Malfoy… or Lestrange?' Why was he even having such a mental conversation? Yet, it was so easy to compare this group of kids with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Each were evil in their own ways, but equally frightening, both groups seemed to strip away the membership's individuality. He could see it: Malachai now had a bit of a lost look in his eyes.

"Where do Sarah and Job like to spend their time?"

"There's an old house at the edge of town…"

"Okay. I want you to think carefully of that location. Only that location, the outside of it, exactly what it looks like. When you're ready, look straight into my eyes." Malachai thought carefully, then nodded, looking Harry straight in the eye. He suddenly felt a strange prickly feeling about the head, and the image he was thinking of became more pronounced.

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Great, got it."

"What did you do?"

"It's called Legilimency, or the art of reading one's mind. Not very many witches or wizards can do it, and it's heavily regulated by the Ministry."

"You could violate one's private thoughts?"

"If I wanted to, and a wizard lacking morals would do so. Trust me, I would never do such a thing. Our thoughts are private. Do you trust me?" Malachai nodded. "Good. Out to the common room, then," said Harry, rising. Malachai followed him out to the drawing table, where Harry quickly consulted the map.

"Isaac has them gathered in the clearing." Malachai gestured to the group. Sarah and Job were conspicuously absent. Harry tapped the map with his finger, and made a circular gesture, causing the map to zoom out. Now it showed a twenty-square-mile area.

"Locatus, Job Gilman." The map did nothing. "You sure that's his real name?"

"No, it is not," said Malachai, "It is his given name. Isaac gave us all names from the old testament."

"What's his real name?"

"Clayton. Clayton Gilman."

"Right. Locatus, Clayton Gilman." Instantly, the map zoomed to show said name, along with his sister, Sarah. As expected, they were in the large house Malachai had shared his memory of.

"What have you done with my shirt?"

"Oh. Forgot about that one small detail," Harry grinned, gesturing with his hand again. "Accio Malachai's shirt!" Said shirt flew up from where it had been dropped on the floor into his outstretched hand. A repair charm and a cleaning charm later, and Harry passed it back to his new friend.

"The use of magic not spared."

"Nope. And… something else of yours," said Harry, pulling something out of his pocket. At first it looked like Harry had nothing in his hand, but after a wave of the other, Malachai's knife appeared. "I trust you." He handed it back, handle first.

"Trust travels both ways." Malachai sheathed his deadly weapon.

"Take my arm," said Harry. The teen did so, not exactly sure what Harry was about to do. Harry twisted away from him suddenly, and Malachai redoubled his grip. The world suddenly vanished, while he felt like he was being squeezed from all sides… like being forced through a very small hole. His ears felt like they were going to pop, while he thought his eyes might go through the back of his head. And suddenly… it was all over, he was sucking in deep breaths of air, a bout of vertigo threatening to toss him to the ground.(3)

"All right there, mate?" Malachai responded by losing his recently eaten lunch on Harry's shoes. "Oi. Well that explains it." He gestured with his hand, banishing the sick-up from his shoes and the bottom of his pants.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it… Dumbledore told me it happens to most people the first time anyway(4)." He waited a moment for Malachai to regain his composure (and perhaps his dignity), then asked, "Is this the right house?"

"Yes, this is where they play." Harry nodded, and both of them entered the house.

From the edge of the corn at the back of the property, a boy and a girl of perhaps thirteen or fourteen looked on, watching Harry and Malachai enter. They nodded to each other, edging back into the corn… back to the clearing. Isaac would want to know about this at once.

Harry followed Malachai through the first floor, then up the stairs to the second floor, and the master bedroom. The door was closed, but they could hear music, and giggling voices. Malachai went to force the door open, but Harry shook his head, whispering, "Knock first." Malachai understood, and did so. The giggling stopped, and the music abruptly stopped. Moments later, the door opened a crack, and a boy of about eight years old stood silhouetted by the bright light streaming into the room. He let out a squeak, seeing Malachai.

"Mr. Gilman, I presume," said Harry. The boy's eyes jumped from Malachai to the new speaker. "May we come in?" The boy seemed to hesitate, his eyes once again falling on Malachai, uneasily, but pulled the door open all the way.

The room was furnished with a large bed, and older furniture. It was brightly lit, and it was clear the young children had been playing here for some time. A number of drawings were tacked up on the wall, all of them drawn by the same hand. A girl was laying on her stomach on the floor, and although she now looked up fearfully, she had been up to this point drawing another picture.

"We have found Malachai! He is with the outlander, at the old house with Sarah and Job!" shouted the girl, bursting into the clearing. Isaac looked up, a short smile appearing on his face.

"Go there then, bring the traitor and the interloper back to the clearing," Isaac vowed, "A double sacrifice." A dozen boys and a few girls took off out of the clearing.

"Hello there," Harry greeted, stepping into the room. Both kids looked at Harry uneasily, but he understood why.

"We have come to take you away from here," Malachai announced. This got another look of confusion from the kids.

"Jobbie, it's the man from my drawing!" said Sarah.

"I know some bad things have been happening, I'm here to help," said Harry, "What's important to you? We can take it with us."

"We can leave this place, for real? You really mean it?"

"I swear on it," said Harry. The twins looked up, seeing a smile tugging at the corner of Malachai's lips… THAT just did NOT happen. "Do not waste time," he said.

"The trunks in the closet… and the record player… and the games!" said Job.

"Crayons…" Sarah added. Each item, Harry gestured with his hand, shrinking it down to pocket-size, each time getting gasps of surprise from the youngsters. Some he stuffed into his own pockets, others he handed to Malachi… while a few others were handed back to the twins.

Just as the drawings were being taken off the wall, there was a noise downstairs.

"They did not waste time," said Malachai, "They come for us."

"Hurry it up," said Harry, closing the bedroom door and gesturing with his hand, "Colloportus!" The door seemed to swell in its frame, making a strange squelching noise.

"More magic!" Job squealed, but Harry held a finger up to his mouth. "Shhhh!" Too late, as shouts could be heard on the lower floor, and feet thumping up the stairs, and fists pounding on the door: "Come out of there!!"

"Join hands," said Harry, holding out a hand, "And hold on tightly." Malachai had already gripped Harry's left arm, and the twins caught on. Harry twisted on the spot, and the four of them vanished with a loud CRACK, which somewhat resembled a gun discharging.

Realizing it was a futile effort to try and go through the bedroom door, some of the boys came up with a plan 'B' for getting into the bedroom: a ladder had been used the last time they launched an assault against this particular house. It was most unfortunate, at least by view of some, it was now against one of their own—or formerly, one of their own. Yet, what Isaac commanded was to be done, or there would be punishment dealt. That was as it was written.

Four boys moved the ladder to the right window, and quickly scrambled up. There was no finesse, as the window was violently smashed, and the boys stormed into the room, to find—nothing. Malachai and the outlander had up and vanished.

_AUTHOR NOTES: This chapter was a ton of fun to write, as we see Harry venture into a different universe for the first time. I'm playing on the fact that there is a wizard world in CotC, but I leave it at that. Assume that the same mechanisms are in place._

_Malachai may come across as OOC, but in this case there is a good reason for it, as I believe the story covers quite well. Just keep in mind, Harry is a powerful wizard, mentally older than 14-going on 15._

_(1) Although I write with CotC movie-verse in mind, Malachai survives Isaac's strangulation attempt, and remains second-in-command, so to speak._

_(2) Taken from p. 281, Deathly Hallows, Canadian soft-cover edition._

_(3) Loosely taken from p. 60, Half Blood Prince, Canadian soft-cover edition._

_(4) The reference taken from the 'movie verse' HBP. I found that hysterical._


	6. Two at the Price of One

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ fifespice, StoryTagger (your review made me laugh ;-D ), and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Major spoilers for __Prisoner of Azkaban… okay, possible spoilers across the board here._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: __Harry welcomes two newcomers into the trunk, then discovers some disturbing information on the date, causing a near meltdown. His venting off anger has some not-so-pleasant consequences… and Malachai learns the tale of 'the boy who lived'._

**6:TWO AT THE PRICE OF ONE  
Or, how Harry's mind is pushed to the brink**

The small group reappeared in the common room of the trunk. Harry had to grin, as the twins seemed to be handling their first apparition better than Malachai, who looked a little green.

"Have a seat," said Harry, gesturing to one of the couches that faced the fireplace. The siblings quickly obeyed. "Now. I didn't quite expect to have a house full of young kids, but so goes my life. I have a few simple rules. If you don't know what it does, don't touch it. There are some things in my house that are dangerous. If you need something, you're not sure of something, ask. I'm here to help."

"Yes sir," spoke Job.

"Mister, are we safe? Are we safe from Isaac?"

"He will not find us here," said Malachai. Both kids turned to look at him, again confused.

"Isaac is evil," said Harry, noting their confusion, "But both of you already knew that, I suppose." More nods. "Isaac had Malachai under a number of powerful charms and curses."

"Harry has freed me from those curses," said Malachai, "I am most grateful."

"Can you free the others?" asked Sarah, shifting herself around on the couch.

"I will do my best. Now. I suppose you might be wondering what I did to your stuff." Harry pulled the miniaturized trunk the twins had pulled out of the closet back at the house, set it on the floor, and re-enlarged it.

"It's magic!" said both twins.

"Very much so. I'm a wizard, and you, Sarah, are a witch."

"I am?!"

"Of course. How can you explain your drawings?" Sarah seemed to think a moment, but could not come up with an answer. "See, we all have magic in us, it's just, a witch or wizard has loads of it, and can learn to use it. I go to a school in Scotland that teaches young witches and wizards how to use their magic."

"Will I go there someday?"

"Well, probably not my school… there's a school on the east coast you'll most likely go to, but they teach something similar." As Harry explained, he was pulling stuff out of his pockets, and re-enlarging them.

"what kind of things?" questioned Job.

"Well… there's charms… like what I did to your stuff… see…" Harry drew his wand, so they could better see the gestures. "Engorgio," he spoke, and the miniaturized stack of drawings returned to their original size. "Just about everything in my home here is made from magic," Harry explained, slipping his wand back into the waistband of his pants. With a wave of his hand, a tin of cookies appeared on the coffee table. "Conjuration… much more advanced form of magic." The siblings sat staring wide-eyed at the tin of cookies, until Harry took a cookie from the tin and ate it. With that, the kids giggled, and took one themselves.

"Glasses of milk?" Again, Harry waved his hand, and two glasses of cold milk appeared alongside the tin.

Isaac was once again enraged, as the group of kids reported back their targets had escaped against seemingly impossible odds. And, worse off, his mind's eye once again showed two fine threads snapping, their ends shrivelling away to nothing. Two more had been taken from his influence, and even though they were not truly followers of He who walks behind the rows, it was still a blow. Their seer had been taken.

"Now," said Harry, as the cookies were then gone, "I have one assignment for the two of you… err… actually, three. The rooms are down the hallway there—" he gestured at the said corridor. "Pick out a room for yourselves, and put your belongings away. Then, you are to have some fun. I saw the games you have. Can you do that?" Both siblings nodded enthusiastically.

"Great. I have a few things to tend to. Kreacher?"

"Yes master?" the elf framed the doorway to the dining room.

"These two will be joining us in the trunk as well."

"Of course. Kreacher is planning for extra already."

"Good, good, that's it then." Kreacher bowed and returned to the kitchen.

"Excuse me, mister, but, what was that?"

"He's a house elf," answered Harry, "And I would like it if you called me Harry." His adult memories were taking hold at this point, acting the part of a responsible adult, rather than a gangly fifteen-year-old.

Of course, the next twenty minutes were spent moving the twins' belongings into the room they had chosen. Harry had expanded it somewhat, seeing as two people would be using it.

"Malachai," he said, once the twins were settled, "You might want to choose a room as well, since it looks like we might be here for a while."

"Thank you."

"In the meantime, I have to go out. Need to get back to… err… well, the place I came here from. Make sure they know I'm all right. Then I need to pick up a few things… potions ingredients, specifically. If any of you need anything, Kreacher should be able to help."

Harry left the trunk through the hatch this time, deciding not to leave it behind. Even with the protections on it, he was still unsure of exactly how strong Isaac was, and didn't want to chance it being discovered. He, after all, had made a promise. So, after shrinking the trunk down to fit in his pocket, and applying a glamour charm, he turned on the spot, and disapparated.

He appeared at the apparition point in Baldwin Alley, the Wizarding shopping district in Toronto. From there, he made three separate jumps, finally landing at the familiar patch of grass in a small square in London. It was just after supper there, due to the time difference.

Stepping inside Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry was given a shock. The place looked as if it had been uninhabited for quite some time, dark, dingy, with a layer of dust on every surface. What was wrong? Just hours ago, this place was half-decent. Perhaps a look in the kitchen would help.

Unfortunately, there was no improvement. In the dim light, he could see the kitchen was in equally bad condition. What had happened? It was as if… he'd travelled back in time. NO! Impossible! Harry shouted in his head… or _thought_ he had shouted it in his head. A piercing shriek confirmed that assumption to be wrong.

"WHO DARES INVADE THE MOST ANCIENT AND NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK?! SHOW YOURSELF!!" the portrait in the hallway shrieked. That was accompanied by a loud CRACK, and Kreacher appeared. This version appeared EXACTLY as Harry had first met him so many years prior, wearing a dirty tea towel. He knew this elf would not be friendly. Harry simply vanished, and made a hasty exit back out the front door. What had happened? Hermione had said many times over, time travel such as this was impossible—time turners worked by hours only, not weeks months or years!

Yet, the evidence was overwhelming to the contrary, and if it were truly the case, everyone he knew would not recognize him. They might initially believe him to be his father, maybe… and that would be more trouble than it was worth.

His thoughts quickly travelled back to his new friends in the trunk. He had already changed history, he realized. Although there was no reference to it, he was sure there would be, if he looked hard enough, should he ever get back to where he belonged.

'Best not get all wound up over it,' he thought. The first thing was, to find out EXACTLY where he was. How far back had he travelled. A Daily Prophet would answer that, he decided, and disapparated.

Minutes later, he stood in front of the small news vendor in Diagon Alley, his hands shaking, staring at the paper. "August 1983," he whispered, then thought, 'I'd be three years old.'

It took everything he had not to have a breakdown on the spot. He took several calming breaths before retracing his steps back to Nebraska, and specifically the service station on the highway. Once the standard protections were again placed on the trunk, he climbed back in, almost falling down the ladder. Only then did he feel safe.

"Is little master all right?" came Kreacher's inquiry.

"Fine… I'm fine," Harry mumbled, his mind still in a daze. Thirteen years! He had somehow been thrown thirteen years into the past. How? Why? The question again: did the universe truly hate him that much? He stumbled over to the couch in front of the fireplace, and thumped down heavily, his mind racing wildly, as a jumble of emotions vied for attention. Anger, sadness, rage. The universe had taunted him, giving him a taste of something he had lost, then once again RIPPED it from his grasp.

SMASH! One of the fake windows on the opposite room exploded into a million pieces, while a number of objects started rattling in their place, Harry's magic bordering on spiralling out of control.

"Harry?!" came his mother's voice from the dining room.

"Son, you have to calm down," his father joined in. Harry simply vanished, a loud CRACK echoing throughout the trunk. A fraction of a second after, Malachai stepped into the room, a questioning look on his face, while Kreacher also appeared in the doorway to the dining room.

"What was that?"

"Master Harry is not well," answered the elf, "He is taking his angry magic away from here and keeping us safe."

"He will be all right?" The elf only blinked, not having an answer himself.

"It was accidental magic," James called from the dining room. Malachai followed the voice into the room, locating the portrait.

"Does that happen often?"

"If a witch or wizard gets over excited, yes, although the chances of it happening grow less as they get older," Lily explained.

"How old is he now?"

"He will be fifteen in a few weeks."

"I turned eighteen today," said Malachai.

"Well. Happy birthday!" said James, grinning.

"Kreacher is making a cake, then!" the elf decided, popping away into the store room. James grinned at that, but noticed Malachai's frown. "You don't celebrate your birthday?"

"Isaac called it frivolous and unnecessary unless one came of age."

"And it sounds like your former friends had a rather macabre way of celebrating it."

"No one over the age of 19 are allowed to remain, and there is only one way to leave."

"So 'he' says," said Lily, coldly, "I still can't believe there hasn't been some sort of intervention."

The old truck parked outside the service station was the first item to feel Harry's explosive temper; it was blasted across the corn field, tearing a wide swath across the neatly sewn rows and new shoots, scattering a cloud of dust to the wind. He then blasted into the air, becoming a streak of black smoke, searching for the clearing.

Isaac felt the angry crackle of energy through the corn, had seen the cloud of dust rise up from the field. Something with massive amounts of power was coming his way, and it was angry. VERY angry. He was not afraid however. He knew this thing, whatever it might be, would never find the clearing unless He who walks behind the rows wanted it to. He smiled, as the figure soared directly overhead, in the direction of Gatlin. His smile faltered, when the loud explosion echoed across the field. A large black cloud of smoke rose in the distance.

A large group of the children were gathered in front of what remained of Grace Baptist Church. The building had been blown apart, and only small pieces remained. The black shape had been seen, streaking from whence it came.

"It has desecrated our holy place!" shouted one. More cries of indignation came from others.

"This interloper must be found!"

"Rachel is dead!"

"Death to the interloper!"

"Sacrifice!"

Harry appeared back at the service station, the most of his anger dissipated in that one blast. The death of one of the children had been most unfortunate; he had not meant to. Yet, could she have been saved? He did not dwell on it, but quickly placed an intent ward (which would keep those wishing to cause harm away from the trunk), cancelled his disguise, then apparated into the trunk. It was not the first time he had had blood on his hands, after all.

"You look of death," said Malachai, appraising the raven-haired boy as he appeared.

"I wish I were, Malachai. I truly wish I were." Harry stumbled over to the drawing table, his mind partially numb. 'time to see what the little monsters are up to,' he thought, bitterly.

"What have you done?"

"I blew up the church," answered Harry, dully. Malachai arched an eyebrow. "I killed one of the children… a girl… I didn't mean to… she got caught in the blast."

"Hours ago, I would have cut you down where you stand. However, I do not feel for these who are so blinded. You cannot save them all, Harry."

It was a slap in the face. An echo from a now distant future… or past? Which was it again? Harry's head was swimming once again with a storm of angry emotions. His eyes narrowed for a moment, appearing more like slits of icy emerald chips. Then, something snapped. His eyes rolled up into the back of his head, and he fell backwards, striking the floor with a dull thud.

Already emotionally confused himself, Malachai could not understand why that would have upset the other boy. "Kreacher!"

"Yes, young Malachai?" said the elf.

"In which room does Harry sleep?"

"What happened to master?" Kreacher looked suspiciously at Malachai.

"He has fainted."

"Master has been up too long. Kreacher is taking care of young master now," said the elf, easily levitating Harry, and directing him into the corridor. Malachai followed, and watched as the elf dressed him in pyjamas, placed him in his bed and tucked him in. "Master Harry is needing care now, he is nearly depleting his magic."

"That can happen?"

"If a wizard over extends himself yes it can," said Kreacher, "Master Harry unleashed powerful magics, he did."

"Will he heal?"

"He will heal, yes, but not quickly. You is helping take care of him now?"

"I… of course. His parents… their portrait… they must be told of this."

"Kreacher is fetching their portrait now," answered the elf, and he was gone with a light POP. He returned a moment later bringing the portrait in question. He was followed by Job and Sarah. "What happened to him?" questioned the boy.

"Master Harry is hurting his magic," answered the elf.

"He did break one of the fake windows a little earlier," said James, as their portrait was placed on the wall.

"Oh, Harry, what have you done to yourself?" questioned Lily, sounding very concerned.

"Kreacher is returning to the kitchen now." With that, the elf vanished with a light pop.

"You two, back to what you were doing," said Malachai, gesturing to the door.

"But…"

"Harry does not require an audience. Now go!" He spoke with perhaps a little more force than he had meant to, as both twins squeaked and jumped, fleeing from the room.

The rest of the afternoon and the evening happened in a fog, so it seemed. He spent the time split between pacing, watching Harry's map, or standing in the doorway to Harry's room, watching the other boy sleep. He had attempted to read some of the books in the library, but abruptly gave up after one of them quite literally chased him up onto a chair; Kreacher had to rescue him from it, a most degrading experience.(1) Malachai had begged and almost threatened the elf to keep quiet about the episode, but in turn got a warning from the elf about the dangers of many materials there.

"…_you can't save them all, Harry…" the high, cold voice taunted, the sounds of maniacal laughter filling his head. The scene showed a Muggle playground in broad daylight, with every single man, woman, and child laying dead at the hands of Voldemort and a group of his Death Eaters. No Aurors would be coming; Voldemort WAS the Ministry of Magic, after all. The Order of the Phoenix was virtually crippled, and Snape, stuck at the school, was not much use as a spy of late, so the Order was a non-factor._

The dream changed.

"_Not Harry, not Harry, please not Harry!"_

"_Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside, now…"_

"_Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead—"_

"_This is my last warning—"_

"_Not Harry! Please… have mercy… have mercy… Not Harry! Not Harry Please—I'll do anything—"_

"_Stand aside—stand aside, girl—"(2)_

_A brilliant green flash filled the scene, accompanied by a piercing scream._

Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, a scream at the tip of his tongue, while his head throbbed—although not his scar—course not, Voldemort had not come back yet… not at this time. Nonetheless, the dreams still hurt, an exact reminder of what his mortal enemy was capable of.

A soft snort to the left of him got his attention: Malachai had fell asleep in the chair beside the bed. 'How did I end up here?' he wondered. He had been changed into pyjamas, and tucked into bed. 'Kreacher', he guessed. Malachai didn't come across as a cuddly type. Even after being released from the control of Isaac and the demon, his heart was still quite dark, and it would take time to thaw—never mind the horrible emotional scarring that remained. A mind healer would be required sooner rather than later, probably for any of the kids he rescued here.

He closed his eyes, letting his mind once again settle on the much larger issue at hand: how to return to 1996, where he belonged. If he did, the kids would be going with him. It was only right. The demon in the corn would not easily be vanquished, possibly not at all. If that were true, it would pursue those he rescued should they stay.

It still hinged on him getting back. How had he managed to travel back in time? He hadn't been touching anything when it had happened. He remembered his third year, when Hermione showed him the time-turner, and using it, rescued both Buckbeak and Sirius. The thing is, this was far beyond a simple time-turner.

Even more unsettling, was the fact that he had not only been sent back in time—he had also been transported across the Atlantic, and practically half way across the United States, for that matter. His trunk had also made the journey, further complicating the equation. Bloody hell, how he wished Hermione was with him!!

Another snort beside him reminded Harry he was not alone. He had three new friends, and his parents' portrait, as well as Kreacher—the old house elf had undergone an amazing transformation in the short few days he had been in the trunk. The thing was, how would he ever honour his promise to him now?

Next time he woke, the light of an overcast morning was streaming through the fake windows of the room. He was alone, but he could hear giggling wafting in from the other rooms: the twins were up and about. His head felt like it was about to explode, and his body felt terribly weak. He knew what had happened: he had overtaxed his core, and made himself sick.

"Kreacher?" Harry whispered. The elf popped in beside the bed.

"Master Harry is staying in bed today, he is," the elf announced, at once adjusting the bedding.

"I'm sorry I haven't been able to get you the present I promised you, Kreacher," said Harry, "But… well… given how things have ended up… I can't just yet."

"Kreacher understands."

"I will do it, somehow. And I know you will like it." The elf nodded, then said, "Master Harry needs breakfast now, and Kreacher will be bringing it." He popped away. A moment later, he returned, bringing a tray with cereal, toast, and a few slices of fruit.

"Thank you, Kreacher."

"You have awakened." Malachai stood in the doorway.

"Yeah. Feel like I've been trampled by a herd of hippogriffs, though."

"A herd of what?"

"Oh… err… like horses. Magical creatures… I'll tell you a story about them sometime. Now… Kreacher… you know where my coin bag is?" The elf nodded. "Could you bring it to me?"

"Right away, master Harry." The elf popped away, returning moments later with the bag of coins. Harry reached in, pulling out a single coin. "I need a National Wizards' Standard, and a Daily Prophet. Try Baldwin Alley in Toronto first—"

"Kreacher does not know that place, master Harry, Kreacher does know the paper stall in Diagon Alley."

"Okay, then that will have to do. Off you go." Kreacher gave Harry a low bow, then popped away. Harry dropped the bag of coins on the opposite side of the bed, then lay back. His head felt as big as a quaffle.

"You do not look well," said Malachai, moving to take the seat beside the bed again.

"No, I'm not. It's magical exhaustion. I blew up badly yesterday, now I'm paying for it."

"How long will it take you to heal?"

"I dunno, a few days, a few hours. I've done it so much, it varies."

"Are you still able to perform magic?"

"Not really a good idea. Even doing small stuff could knock me out again, or worse. I could end up a squib."

"A what?"

"Someone who knows about magic, but can't use it."

"Like me?"

"No, you're a Muggle. You shouldn't even KNOW about magic. Just telling you about our world… without a good reason… it's a violation of an international statute… err, law. I could go to Azkaban—Wizard prison," explained Harry, "A very dark place, makes any prison in the Muggle world look tame."

"Yet you risk all to save my life. Why?"

"Because like I said, it's the right thing to do." He thought for a moment. "Actually, could you do me a favour and bring me the map off the drawing table? Time to see what your former friends are up to." Malachai nodded, and left the room.

He returned a few seconds later, a puzzled look on his face. "This paper is blank," he spoke, confused.

"And it would be. That's how I designed it," said Harry, as Malachai lay the parchment over Harry's legs. Harry had shifted the breakfast tray aside. "See, it automatically blanks itself after a couple of hours if no one is looking at it."

"What would you erase it for?"

"In case it's lost or whatever. Try this… put an index finger on the centre of the parchment, and repeat, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'," said Harry.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," parroted Malachai, placing an index finger on the map as instructed.

The edges of the paper seemed to come alive with dark ink, and words began to form:

MR. PRONGS JR., IN HONOUR OF MSSRS PRONGS, PADFOOT, AND MOONY, PURVEYORS OF AIDS TO MAGICAL MISCHIEF-MAKERS, PROUDLY PRESENT THE 'ADVANCED MARAUDERS' MAP'

"Did someone say the magic words?" questioned James, from the portrait.

"Hi dad," said Harry, looking up at the portrait.

"I've been meaning to ask you about that map," James continued, as the map began to fill itself in, originating from where the map currently sat, spreading out to cover the town and the surrounding roads. The children seemed to be spread about in numerous groups, although as expected, the clearing was occupied as well.

"It took me quite a while to unravel the secrets to the original map," said Harry, "But once I did, I added a few extra things to this one."

"How far out can you see?"

"About twenty-five miles, give or take. See now, if I do this…" Harry drew a loose circle around the clearing on the map, and it instantly zoomed to show two figures, one of them being Isaac.

"Seth. Isaac has named Seth in my place," spoke Malachai.

"Then we will take him next," Harry decided, "Once I'm well enough. Forcibly taking away the enchantments requires a lot of power. It's almost as if he has you all tethered directly in some way. I certainly know a thing or two about that, considering…" Harry pushed the fringe of messy hair off his forehead to reveal his infamous lightening-bolt scar.

"How did you come to be marked so?" Malachai reached up a finger and ran it across the ugly scar; the skin was raised along the edges, as if it had been done recently. It felt like a scab.

"I guess now is as good as any, to tell you the story of a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle…" Just then, there was a light POP, and Kreacher returned with the two papers. Harry thanked him for the papers, and set them, as well as the map, aside. The elf popped away.

"Anyway… the story begins in early July of 1980, when the headmaster of my school was interviewing a woman to become the new Divination teacher. She wasn't the brightest woman in the world—and I can tell you that from personal experience… but the headmaster hired her anyway, for her protection. All because she told a prophecy …" Harry paused, and recited the prophecy Dumbledore had wanted to keep guarded and secret for so long.

"This prophecy involved you?"

"It actually could have meant one of two babies born at the end of July that year. Me, or one of my close friends, Neville Longbottom. Right brilliant wizard he is… So anyway… Riddle, or, Lord Voldemort as he has named himself… had a spy listening in the night the woman, Sybill Trelawney, made the prophecy. Of course he only heard part of it, but he tore back to Voldemort and reported what he heard, incorrect information as it was. I think in hindsight, had Voldemort—or Riddle, known the entire contents of the prophecy, he would have waited. As it was, wanting to eliminate the implied threat, he attacked.

"I'm not going into all the back details, but my parents did go into hiding, and one of their closest friends betrayed them. On Halloween night, Riddle attacked. He killed my parents, then turned his wand on me…"

Malachai once again saw the same vision as he had the previous morning… a woman pleading for Harry's life, a blast of green light that filled his vision, and a horrible wail. "Harry… your mother was killed by a green light?"

"She was… how do you know that?"

"I have seen it… like a memory."

"When I gave you some of my blood… of course!" Harry guessed, "You need to tell me if you see anything else like that… or if anything, err… well, weird happens around you."

"And this is not?" Malachai gestured generally with his hand.

"Touché," Harry conceded, then continued, "So he turned his wand on me, and cast the killing curse—that same green magic you saw. Except that it backfired, leaving me with this scar."

"And Riddle died?"

"No… no he didn't. Because, see, Riddle had done some truly horrible things to make sure he COULDN'T die. He's created containers… Horcruxes… that contain pieces of his soul. And far worse… this…" Harry again gestured to his scar, "Is one of them."

"Is it dangerous? Does it hurt?"

"Well… yes, it hurts sometimes, usually if I'm close to him… and well… it's not dangerous, exactly… except that… as long as it's inside of me… so long as Riddle has just one of those things, he can't be destroyed."

"Then you must die?"

"No. There is another way for the Horcrux to be removed… SHIT!!!" Harry swore, as it dawned on him.

"What's wrong, dear?" questioned Lily.

"If this is to work as it did last time, Riddle has to be allowed to regain his body, and specifically, he must use my blood. Otherwise, I will die for real."

"Just make sure you destroy all the other Horcruxes first," said James.

"I know, dad, but just allowing him to regain a body at all… it's a terrifying prospect… having him walk among the living again will put us all in grave danger."

"That's why it has to be planned very carefully. Harry, you've DONE it before… that's what you have to draw on, dear," said Lily.

With that said, Harry pulled the breakfast tray back onto his lap, and began his breakfast. Malachai got up, and went around to the other side of the bed, so he could get a better look at the map. Remembering how Harry had worked the map, he flicked his finger with a gesture, and the map zoomed back out a ways. It worked entirely through finger gestures, or wand gestures if one had it.

A large group of the children had then gathered at the remains of the church, with the new messenger, Seth, coordinating. He was sixteen, of average height and weight, with almost white hair that hung almost straight. He wore jeans and a jean jacket over a black tee shirt.

"We have been tested," he spoke, "But we will persevere, as it is written. Go into the remains, then, and pull out that which is sacred, those things which may be recovered."

"Praise God!" shouted one.

"PRAISE THE LORD!" the rest joined and echoed back, while most of them scaled over the broken remains of the church.

A gasp drew Malachai away from watching the mass of black dots that were gathered on the map. "Something's happened?" He looked at Harry, who then had one of the newspapers in his grasp, eyes transfixed on it.

"My mum… she… she married Snape!"

_AUTHOR NOTES: I know, I'm evil. But… I've seen this done, and so why not? This is a different universe Harry's in, after all… so who says things can't be drastically different?_

_(1) Just HAD to use that… of course, referring back to Harry's third year and Neville's somewhat unpleasant experience with the CoMC text book that year._

_(2) Taken from p. 281, Deathly Hallows, Canadian soft-cover edition._


	7. A Battle Lost

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ , and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Fawkes manages to find Harry, and a message is sent home; Harry and Malachai confront Isaac in the clearing, claiming another child from the corn; said child has a poor reaction to Harry's help; and Harry asks a favour of Fawkes._

**7:A BATTLE LOST**

A choking and sputtering came from his parents' portrait, and Harry didn't need to look to know it was his father. He had to re-read the headline twice to make sure he was truly seeing what he was reading. "Snape has just taken the potions position at Hogwarts," said Harry, finally, "And I quote, with his lovely wife, Lily Evans-Snape, and their three-year-old son, Harry, in tow. Mrs. Snape will be assisting professor Snape, being close to receiving her mistress' papers herself."

"Well, at least you were still born here, Harry," Lily managed, her lips somewhat forming into a smile.

"But… Snape? I'm gonna spend a few minutes in front of a mirror with my wand, I think…"

"Harry, I thought you understood… if I hadn't married James… it would have been Severus. I did have feelings for him—"

"Until he decided to call you a mudblood in your fifth year," Harry retorted, "Merlin's pants, you married Snape."

"Harry, you do not belong here," Malachai reminded, "This is not your world."

Of course, Malachai was right. If this had happened in his world—wait! His thought came to a grinding halt. If what Malachai said was true, then…

"Bloody hell we're in a parallel universe!"(1)

"Well, look at it this way, Harry. You don't have to worry about doing damage to the future," James pointed out. That got another glare from his son.

"Dad, that's not helping." He put the paper aside, realizing whatever was happening there did not concern him. That most definitely complicated getting back, all the same.

"What will happen to us, when you are able to return to your own world?" questioned Malachai.

"You think I'm gonna leave you guys here? Malachai… you and everyone else I am able to pull from this… this demon's grasp… you'll all be coming with me. This thing that possesses Isaac… most likely I'll only be able to drive it off, not get rid of it for good. It'll come back for you. I swear to you, I won't leave you behind."

"Your kindness means a lot to me." Malachai placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, then left the room.

Harry watched him leave. "He's thawing out. He was closed up tighter than a Gringotts vault when I healed him yesterday."

"Harry, you have no idea how proud we are of you," said Lily, "You've saved that boy in more ways than one." Harry felt his cheeks get warm at the praise from his mother. In another time, he had gotten that often, but it still felt good either way. Even though in a portrait, his parents still proved to be extremely helpful. Letting out a breath, he tapped the map beside him with an index finger, speaking, "Mischief managed," then closed his eyes as the map erased itself, allowing his mind to again rest. How deeply he wished he could let people know he was okay!

Sometime later, Malachai returned to Harry's room to once again have a look at the map. He was startled to discover a brilliant red bird resting on the headboard, preening its feathers. The bird looked up, seeming to appraise Malachai for a moment, then let out a trill, a single, wonderful note filling the air.

"Do you belong to Harry?" The bird seemed to shake its head, its black eyes staring holes in Malachai's chest. A sudden rush of memories flashed in front of his eyes, then all ceased, the bird once again letting out a long, sorrowful call, its music haunting.

"I have done terrible things, but you already know that. Why are you here?" The bird looked down at Harry, who had not moved an inch, even with the noise the bird had made.

"Did he call for you somehow?" The bird nodded.

"You are a magical bird, then?" The bird nodded again.

"It's Dumbledore's familiar," said James, "He must've somehow known Harry needed help."

"Even across different worlds?"

"He's a phoenix, a very powerful magical animal," explained Lily, "And Harry has a strong connection with him."

"Like what he shares with… Voldemort?"

"I strongly doubt that. But it's likely got a bit in common, I would assume. It's truly an honour to stand in his presence, phoenixes are one of the most light-oriented creatures in our world," said Lily.

"Then he has not seen me at all," said Malachai, "The things I have done make me unworthy." Before either of Harry's parents could say otherwise, he fled from the room.

The next time Harry awoke, it was dark, with the light of the waxing half-moon providing the only light through the fake window. He was starting to feel better, but still wasn't at one hundred percent. He could get away with lesser spells, but nothing massive, such as he pulled two days prior. If anything, perhaps that kind of thing should never be repeated, come to think of it. He had quite literally blown up a building with his magic. Sure, he'd blown things up before with raw magic, but nothing on that scale. "Tempus," he whispered, directing with his right index finger. '3:22 am' wafted from it. It was quite early, but he had been on his back long enough.

Sitting up, it was then he noticed he was not alone in the room. "Fawkes! How did you get here?" Harry was shocked and excited Dumbledore's familiar had been able to find him. The bird only blinked at him, letting out a happy trill. "Well, I'm glad you're here. Can you get a letter back to… certain people?" the bird nodded. "Great! I know they're worried about me, I'm sure."

That answered the first order of business. He pulled the map off the bed, then made his way out to the drawing table in the common room. It was dimly lit by several gas lamps, but with a gesture from his hand, they brightened, bathing the room in warm light. Quickly procuring paper and a pen, he scribbled out a letter giving a highly edited version of where he was and what was happening.

"Okay, Fawkes, this goes to Cedric Diggory," said Harry. He had debated who should be notified first, but it was a fairly easy call in the end. Sirius was his godfather, but Cedric was his love. He would share the note with Sirius no matter what, although Harry did say for him to do exactly that.

As Harry was tying the letter to the phoenix's leg, he heard a door open.

"You are awake. Feeling better?" questioned Malachai, stepping into the common room.

"Getting there. Enough to be up and about. Have you met Fawkes?" Harry gestured to the bird.

"Yes, earlier."

"Git. You could've woke me," said Harry, in a mock-scolding voice, as he finished securing the letter. "Okay, off you go. If you can, wait for a reply and come back." The bird only nodded, then burst into flames and vanished. Malachai shielded his face in shock.

"What… what happened to him?!"

"He's a phoenix. It's how they travel when they don't fly," Harry explained.

"He will come back?"

"Definitely. Likely with a couple of letters at minimum."

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place had been in an uproar since Harry vanished two, now going on three days ago. The majority of the Order of the Phoenix now walked its halls, as clues to the boy's location were ferreted out. Cedric had also been brought to the residence and given the secret so he could come and go as well—it was only fair he be allowed to help out, considering how close he was to Harry.

Ron and Hermione were also there, along with most of the Weasley family. Molly had taken it particularly hard, considering she saw Harry as an eighth child. She was in such a terrible state, she could not help prepare the meals as she usually did; Dobby and Winky were only too happy to take over.

The large group was currently sitting down for lunch, now nearing the third day since Harry vanished. Ron was barely touching his food, in stark contrast to his usual eating habits. In fact, the twins were equally not eating all that much; it affected all the Weasley children in some way.

Just then, with a flash of flame, Fawkes appeared behind Cedric's chair. He hopped down to the table, and held his leg out, around which was secured a letter.

"Maybe Dumbledore found him!" said Ginny, hopefully. They all knew who the bird was, and who he belonged to.

"No, I think he'd just bring 'im here," said Ron, between bites, "I mean, why waste the time?"

"He's right, Ginny."

"It's from Harry!" exclaimed Cedric, as he opened the letter. Everyone's head snapped up at the utterance, including a particular potions master, who stood at his usual dark corner of the room.

Cedric began reading: "Cedric, Do not read this aloud… err, sorry guys, guess it's just meant for me." He then continued reading:

_I don't want you to share this with anyone except for Sirius, for now. I don't know what happened, but, I have somehow been sent to a parallel universe. Kreacher is with me to keep me company in the trunk, which seems to have somehow followed me—Merlin only knows how THAT happened._

_I have encountered a few new friends, as well as something truly evil. As in, Voldemort evil. This thing has possessed a group of kids in a small place somewhere in the central USA—Nebraska, as I remember. Maybe share this with Hermione, ask her if she could help… I'm really at a loss and well… I'm sort of involved now, I hope you understand._

_Feel free to send back a reply with Fawkes, he seems to know how to find me. Let Padfoot also read this, it's meant for him too._

_I miss you so much, Cedric. You're never far from my thoughts. Neither are you, Padfoot._

_Love you both,_

_Harry_

Cedric felt a range of emotions as he read the letter. Clearly, Harry was all right, but yet… this thing… this demon, was it? So he had left Voldemort behind, only to face something that could be just as dangerous! 'Leave it to Potter,' he thought, passing the letter to Sirius.

"Well? Is it Potter?" questioned Mad-Eye Moody.

"I'm certain," answered Cedric, "Excuse me."

"Well, where is he?" questioned Tonks, sporting very bright pink hair.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," said Sirius, looking up from the letter, "Although it seems trouble does follow him."

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Once breakfast was over with, Harry again activated his map.

"Perfect, they're having a meeting."

"Morning gathering," said Malachai.

"Then we're going to listen in," said Harry, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"They outnumber us, Harry."

"But, we have magic on our side. What I need of you, is to provide a distraction—they won't get near you," Harry added, seeing concern in the other boy's eyes. "I, meanwhile, will be under this…" Harry summoned his invisibility cloak, and put it on, leaving only his head uncovered.

"How are we getting there?"

"Take my arm," said Harry, exposing an arm from under the cloak, while covering his head. Malachai was apprehensive—apparition most certainly didn't agree with him, but he did so anyway. Harry's invisible self twisted on the spot, and they vanished.

This time, however, it was unlike the usual method of apparition. This time, it felt as if they were flying high above the corn, a black mist swirling around them. They were heading straight for the clearing, where nearly forty children were gathered, Isaac, his unmistakable form, pacing about with a corn cob crucifix in hand.

They touched down suddenly, but yet, softly, with the smoke abruptly vanishing. Malachai was bordering on terrified at this point, as all eyes now fell on him, but yet, he felt something invisible wash over him, like cold water had been poured over him. Harry had done something to him, and that gave just the right amount of courage.

"I do hope I am not interrupting," he drawled. Invisible, Harry had to grin, as Malachai had just done an excellent imitation of Snape.

Isaac had watched the trail of smoke, and his self-assurances they would never find the clearing were abruptly shattered, as the black shape dropped into the middle. Far more unnerving, was the source of said black smoke.

"Malachai!" Isaac erupted, "SEIZE HIM!!"

"I doubt your weapons will have little consequence." Some of the older children had attempted to lay a hand on him, but had been burned by some sort of invisible shield. "Little you understand, this false god will do none of you any good. Turn from it now, or face the consequences." A number of the children still seated looked at the former first lieutenant and enforcer with rapt attention. Was this true?

"He lies!!" Isaac hissed, "Heretic! He lies, he will burn a thousand deaths!"

"No, it is you that will burn, Issac!" Malachai snarled, "You know nothing of the power I have seen, a power greater than He who walks behind the rows!"

"Blasphemy, lies! All of it, lies!" Isaac shrieked, "If you listen to this traitor all of you will burn for it!" A thump from behind drew Isaac's attention: Seth had fallen over like a tree, and he was just in time to see him vanish.

"See! Another of your followers has been taken! Do not dismiss my words, for you have all been deceived!"

"You've done well," whispered Harry, squeezing Malachai on the shoulder, "Now let the real fun begin. Pull the cloak off me, quickly." Malachai took a guess where Harry was, and yanked the invisible cloak, which came off easily and quickly. The gathering had a range of emotions, from shock to awe, to bewilderment. Some of the older kids again got the bright idea to attack, but were met by the same painful shield that protected Malachai.

"Most unwise," said Harry, gesturing at a girl that looked to be about fifteen, attempting to get through the shield, "Stupefy." The girl fell to the ground unconscious. "Don't worry, she will regain consciousness in a few hours… or a few days—sometimes I don't know my own strength," said Harry, as though bored.

"What have you done to him?!" Isaac gestured to Malachai.

"You want him back? Moments ago you called him a heretic and a liar."

"He will be sacrificed to the corn for his traitorous acts!" shouted an older girl of about seventeen.

"NO!" cried another boy of about fourteen, "His blood must not profane the corn! He will be tossed upon the road as Joseph was!!"

"SILENCIO!" Harry snapped, thrusting a hand at the previous speaker. His mouth continued to move, but no sound came out. "The rest of you will do well to follow his example."

"You will remember to undo that?" questioned Malachai. Harry nodded. "My new friend is learning," he grinned, then paused, taking a look around the clearing. His gaze at last fell on the cross made of corn, on which the a carcass of a man hung in grotesque form. Judging by the remains of the outfit, he had most likely been a police officer in the town.

"Rather artistic, I think," Harry mused, "Although I do believe the National Gallery might take issue if it were ever presented there."

"You dare blaspheme the Lord?! Who are you, interloper?!"

"Ah, but you've asked that question before, Chroner," said Harry, "I assure you, whatever god you worship will NOT protect you against me. For the record, my name is Harry."

"Sarah foretold his arrival, this I have seen," said Malachai. That drew a few gasps.

"What have you done with our seer, Outlander?" questioned Isaac.

"I should imagine they will most likely be enjoying a bit of a lie-in, with perhaps a few games before having a light brunch," answered Harry, with a smirk.

"He tells lies, he corrupts our innocents!" shouted a boy of about fifteen.

"And the Lord shall punish his deeds!" Isaac responded. Harry only shrugged, then thrust his hand at the cross made of corn stalks. "Incendio!" The cross burst into flames, drawing a unanimous gasp from the assembled mass.

"It is witchcraft!" howled the fifteen year old, which was met by cries of agreement.

"He will bewitch us all!"

"Sorcery!"

"The devil's work!"

"SILENCE!" Harry shouted, while a loud BANG accompanied. The gathering fell deathly quiet. "Yes, and I will eat your first born children. Heard it all before, though most of it is untrue. I am a wizard. This boy—" Harry gestured to Isaac, "Has all of you bewitched and enthralled. I offer a way out of this madness—and let's face it, that's exactly what it is."

"It is you that will bewitch us, sorcerer!!" cried the seventeen year old girl. Isaac seemed to smirk at this comment, he knew the children were well in hand. This wizard would have very little effect on his flock.

"You have all committed terrible acts. But I ask you this. At one point, you all loved your parents, did you not?"

"They lived in corruption and sin! Our Lord demanded their sacrifice!" this from a ten year old girl. Others seemed to nod.

"That was not my question," Harry fired back. "Who did you run to at night, when a storm passed over? Who did you run to when you had a bad dream?"

"He is leading you astray, pay no heed!" Isaac shouted, "It is forbidden to entertain such thoughts! The adults served no purpose but to corrupt us and the world. They had to be sacrificed!!"

"This is laughable," Harry scoffed, "You nothing about the meaning of sacrifice, Isaac."

"Nor did I, three days ago," said Malachai, "Three days ago, I would have taken my blade and cut this boy down. Yet, he has shown me the meaning of sacrifice, something far different from your teachings, the teachings of this false God, Isaac." The gathering noted the butcher knife still strapped to Malachai's side: The wizard trusted him.

"Blood must be sacrificed—" Isaac began to preach, but Harry cut him off, saying, "NO! Blood must NEVER be used in such a manner! You tear your soul apart committing murder! Sacrifice and love are powerful actions and emotions, actions and emotions none of you seem to possess. My friend here, however, most DEFINITELY understands the meaning of them now. But I'm through talking. Perhaps next time, I shall burn every square foot of this cursed field," warned Harry. That drew another unified gasp from the children. "We will meet again in the near future." He gestured to the two kids he had cursed, releasing them. Then, gripping Malachai's shoulder, they vanished in a swirl of black smoke, rocketing back out over the corn.

Isaac remained silent for some time, watching the trail of smoke vanish to the opposite side of the vast field. He could feel easily a dozen threads in his mind-eye, carefully weighing what Harry and Malachai had said. The seed of doubt had been planted in the corn.

Landing back inside the trunk, the next order of business was the new boy who lay magically bound on the floor. He carried a murderous look on his face, glaring up at the two teens.

"Unhand me at once, sorcerer!" he shouted.

"Silence," said Malachai, "You will do well to listen carefully to what my friend has to say, if you value your life." The boy opened his mouth to again protest, but decided against it, continuing to glare at his captors. Harry nodded, then took out his wand. "I will not hurt you, at least not intentionally. But do brace yourself."

"I will not—"

"FINITE INCANTATUM!" Harry barked, and like Malachai, the force of the spell almost lifted the boy off the floor with its power.

"I did mention that hurt, right?" questioned Malachai. Harry shook his head, as they watched the boy struggle for a moment, then become still.

"Need a calming draught as well…" said Harry, and quickly retrieved said potion from his stores. It was forced into the boy, who fought against Harry fiercely.

Within seconds, the boy seemed to relax, no longer struggling against the restraints.

"What have you done to me?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Harry has freed you, like he has me," answered Malachai. Harry nodded, adding, "You were under a number of powerful enchantments, all of which I removed a few moments ago." He gestured with his wand again, whispering, "Finite."

Seth realized he could move, and quickly sat up. His head felt rather light. "Enchantments?"

"Enchantments which compelled you to follow Isaac's twisted teachings," said Harry, "Most likely done not long after he arrived. Other enchantments which forced blind loyalty and blind faith. In my world, this is on the same level as an unforgivable."

"An unforgivable?" questioned both Seth and Malachai.

"I haven't mentioned those before," said Harry, mostly to himself, "Well, there are three curses in my world that are, well, unforgivable. All of them carry a life prison term. The one I'm talking about here is the Imperious curse. It forces the victim to do the caster's bidding. It strips away the individual's free will."

"Have you… have you ever done it to someone?" questioned Malachai. Harry nodded, grimly. "I've cast them all. It isn't something I'm proud of, but… it was war. I had no choice."

"Why are you trying to save us?" questioned Seth, slowly gaining his feet, "There are nearly fifty of us, you are only one wizard."

"But that's exactly it," answered Harry, "I am a wizard, I have magic on my side. All of you, on the other hand, do not. Never mind the fact I hate anything that violates and exploits people. You've each been horribly manipulated into doing terrible things. I would not be okay with myself, just leaving this place with that sort of thing left to continue." His twenty-six year old memories were asserting themselves again.

"You rescued Seth!" All three boys turned around to see Sarah and Job standing at the doorway to the corridor.

"Sarah, Job. They are treating you well?" questioned Seth. Both twins nodded enthusiastically.

"Come into the dining room where it's a little more comfortable," Harry invited.

While they talked, Harry chanced a look at Seth's mind. Indeed, similar to Malachai, this boy had done some horrible things, all while under the persuasive power of Isaac and 'He who walks behind the rows'. The boy would be traumatized for life. He had not only murdered his parents, but an older brother of about twenty, and an aunt who had happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, during the 'sacrifice' three years prior.

The discussion was interrupted, when Fawkes reappeared in a brilliant flash of golden flames behind Harry's chair.

"Fawkes. You got back to Sirius and Cedric?" The bird seemed to nod, then hopped down onto the table in front of Harry, with Seth held in rapt attention. The bird had several letters tied to his leg, which Harry relieved him of.

"What… what is that?" questioned Seth, finally finding his voice. Harry grinned, saying, "This is Fawkes, and he's a phoenix."

"He's… beautiful." Fawkes turned his attention to the new boy, and, like Malachai, seemed to appraise him, once again letting out a sorrowful cry, both beautiful and haunting at the same time.

"He laments for your soul," said Harry, at Seth's inquisitive look, "He knows you have been horribly misused."

"If I could take back what I have done…"

"I know, for the both of you. You're just kids, as much as I am, or was. I would be worried if it DIDN'T bother you," said Harry. He thought for a moment, looking at the Black crest pressed into the wax seal on the top envelope. "Malachai… take Seth to choose a room. I'll be a while with these, I imagine. They probably want me to write back." Harry gestured at the floor in the corner, conjuring up a large perch. "Fawkes…" The bird let out an approving trill, then lit over to it.

"You're really a wizard?" questioned Seth, still not believing what he had just saw. Harry nodded, "Very much so." A smile crept onto the new boy's face for the first time. "Isaac has no idea what he's dealing with."

"Nope. Not a clue," Harry agreed.

"Come with me," said Malachai, standing, "You will need a room."

While they headed for the rooms, Harry opened the first letter.

_Harry,_

_Trouble does seem to follow you, does it not? Glad to hear you are okay, Dumbledore was in a right state when you up and disappeared three days ago. I'm sorry to have to tell you, but he was able to read the letter—his magic is somewhat more powerful than mine—needless to say we aren't on speaking terms at the moment due to that little stunt. He's got Minerva and Filius already doing research into what may have caused your disappearance._

_Although he is not sending you a letter himself, he did pass on word that you may continue to call on Fawkes to keep us all up to date on what is going on. You should also remember, and I quote, 'should things become too difficult, Fawkes is a remarkable bird, as you may remember from your dealings at the end of your second year'._

Harry stopped reading. Of course! He could go home at any time! Fawkes could just… just flash him home! Just grab his tail feathers, and all of this would be over. He would be back with Cedric, get back to the plans he had started to put into action a few days ago…

Yet, giggling and voices from the rooms reminded him of why he could not. He was involved with these children. He had seen the look on a few faces at the gathering, that look of questioning. Another confrontation with Isaac, and perhaps he might free a few more. No, he would see this through to its conclusion. It was the right thing to do. He continued reading:

_I, on the other hand, have a better solution, knowing how you work, Harry. I know that you will consider Dumbledore's words for all of five seconds before discarding them to the virtual rubbish bin—although I do suggest you keep his point in mind. If it gets too dangerous, do not risk your life. You do have a destiny here, keep in mind._

_That said, I have sent with this letter something that will make it far easier to keep in contact with me, and by proxy, Cedric, Ron, and Hermione (each of them also sent letters, by the way). A certain pair of twins came up with a rather ingenious device that will fit the order quite nicely. Tap the parchment with your wand, using the same password as you would for our map, you know what I mean. There will be a note with it with instructions on its use._

_I look forward to 'hearing' from you, Harry._

_Sirius_

As curious as he was as to what the twins had managed to pull off, he put the letter aside. He would look at it after he read the remaining letters, the first being from Cedric.

_Harry,_

_You have no idea how terrified I was when Sirius informed me what happened to you. I am relieved you are okay, I have slept very little over the past three days. Your letter will have to keep me company until you return—Sirius and I had to threaten Dumbledore with bodily harm before he would return it… Git. _(Harry snickered when he read that… 'my knight in shining armour…', he thought, and a giggle escaped his lips)

_The entire Order has been reassembled, and they've been working overtime trying to figure out what happened to you—at least until your letter arrived. Now, of course—I'm sure you've already read Sirius' letter—Dumbledore's got them all digging into this 'parallel dimension' theory. You're absolutely sure you've gone to a different dimension? I didn't think that sort of thing was even possible._

_Do be careful, Harry. Love you always,_

_Cedric_

Hermione and Ron's letters were predictable, with each going through a range of emotions, Hermione raving about him 'contaminating the time stream', while Ron seemed to be impressed at Harry's 'prank'. It wasn't a prank! Sometimes his best friend could be as thick as a brick.

Finally, he turned his attention back to Sirius' letter. He tapped it with an index finger, saying, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The letter seemed to change shape momentarily, forming into a large mouth, which spit out a small package. Said package floated to the table top, then enlarged itself to the size of a shoe box. The letter returned to its normal shape, and it too, dropped to the table.

Opening the package, he found what looked like a cordless telephone. It was a clunky handset, nowhere near what he had seen years later. 1995 technology, of course. The buttons had been removed, except for one: an On/Off button. Along with the phone, was a card.

_Harry,_

_Greetings, from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes! This little device you find in this package is only a prototype, but we have tested it out pretty thoroughly—this past week has been really exciting… did we say thank you for your financial contribution? Right, anyway, being raised in the Muggle world you probably recognize the device._

_It works similar to a _(fellytone was scratched out here, replaced with 'telephone')_, except that it is strictly magical. To use it, simply press the on/off button, then speak the name of who you want to speak with—of course, the other person will have to have a phone as well—both of us have one, as does Ron, Hermione, Cedric, and Sirius. When you're finished, press the on/off button again. It's that simple._

_You've helped us a ton, Harry, so you don't owe us anything for it._

_Take care,_

_Gred & Forge_

"Bloody brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, again looking the device over. He wasted no time, pressing the on/off button. "Sirius."

It seemed to take a few seconds, before he heard a voice on the other end. "Harry?"

"Sirius!"

"Glad to see you got the letter okay. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just… this is amazing…"

"Fred and George have claimed Regulus' old room, I daresay they've been very busy of late, much to Molly's chagrin." Harry snickered at the thought, then said, "Glad to see my little bit of assistance is being used well. Whatever you do, don't mention that to Mrs. Weasley. She might curse me into oblivion."

Sirius let out a barking laugh, saying, "Indeed, Harry, I would have to agree with you on that one… we certainly know where the Weasley temper comes from—OUCH!" Muffled shouts could be heard on the other end for several moments, with Sirius finally coming back on the line, "Gotta go, pup—OUCH! Be careful Haaaarrryyy!" the line clicked off.

He wasted no time, immediately calling George.

"Harry!"

"Hi George. You guys are bloody brilliant!"

"Why thank you." Fred had joined the conversation.

"How can you do that?"

"Our phones are all linked, of course," said George, "You just say 'add', and the name of the person you want to add to the conversation."

"Like a conference call," said Harry, remembering some of the technology from his future.

"Exactly."

"We did a little research into the Muggle fellytone system," said Fred.

"Telephone, guys," Harry corrected, "You know you'll make a fortune with these, right?"

"Sirius was going to send you a two-way-mirror, but this is better," said Fred, "We tried them out, they're not as flexible."

"Well, thanks. I mean it. Been half-mental here, and I've only been here for three days."

"Where are you exactly?"

"In some place in the U.S., called Gatlin, Nebraska. I don't want to go into details, but a demonic spirit's made itself at home here… I'm trying to help get rid of it if I can."

"Coming to a dimension near you, It's Harry Potter, vanquisher of Dark Lords AND demonic spirits!" George piped up.

"It won't stand a chance against 'ya, Harry." Harry had to stifle a laugh. The twins were always good for a laugh or three. Their joke shop had been most successful the first time around; he would make sure it would do twice as well this time. "Right, guys. I have to go… gotta talk to Cedric. I'm sure he's going half-spare by now."

"Right. Twoooo wuv…" Fred sniggered, while George made kissing sounds in his set.

"You two be quiet, or I won't invite you to the wedding." It was said tongue-in-cheek, and the twins ran with it.

"The nerve!"

"After all we've done for the boy!"

"Well that tears it then…"

"Wait… wedding?!" Fred caught it first.

"Err… well… never mind," said Harry, grinning, "Might be putting all my dragon eggs in one basket there…" He could hear Fred humming the wedding march, with George singing a very lewd version of it.

"All right, knock it off," Harry laughed, "Look I really have to go. Thanks again for this, it's brilliant."

"Nothing to it, honorary brother," said George.

"Mischief managed," said Harry.

"Mischief managed," spoke both twins, at which the connection closed.

He spent the rest of the afternoon talking with Cedric—they missed each other equally, after all. He ended up moving about the trunk while on the phone, looking in on the map, checking to see what his new friends were up to, or parking himself in front of the fireplace.

Smells from the kitchen reminded him of what time it was, and so he wished his boyfriend a good night, and hung up for the last time. He'd completely forgotten he had a new guest, after all. Just then, Kreacher appeared in the common room. "Supper is being ready, master Harry."

"Great, I'll let everyone else know." The elf bowed and popped away, while Harry went into the twins' room, where it seemed everyone was gathered. "Guys, supper's ready, come eat."

It was late evening before Harry realized there would be a greater problem with Seth. Seated in the makeshift library, he suddenly heard shouts from Seth's room.

Charging into his room, he found Seth and Malachai in a deadly struggle, Seth having stolen Malachai's knife. Malachai was trying to disarm the other boy, having already been cut by the dangerous weapon several times. Harry did not hesitate. "Expelliarmus!" The knife clattered against the wall.

Seth, however, continued to struggle as Malachai attempted to keep him restrained. "Harry, stun him!"

"Stupefy," Harry hissed, and Seth fell limp.

"What the FUCK is going on?!" Harry burst, looking at the scene, "Merlin's balls!"

"We were talking about… all that has happened… he lost it and took my knife before I could react." His breathing was still heavy from the struggle. "He was trying to kill himself."

"Let me see your arm." Harry gestured to the deep cut on Malachai's forearm. "Episkey. Where else?"

"Here. And here. And here…"

Harry quickly healed the other injuries, then looked Seth over, as Malachai looked on. The boy had managed a minor stab to his own chest, which Harry was able to heal. However, there were other injuries Harry knew would be very difficult to heal. Healing spells only worked on PHYSICAL injuries, after all.

"I don't know if I'll be able to help him," said Harry, "He really needs a mind healer, I think."

"Mind healer?"

"A psychiatrist, although in our world they're a little more effective. A mind healer is usually a pretty good legilimens."

"Couldn't you do it?"

"I'm not a mind healer, Malachai. I could do more harm than good."

"He's dangerous as he is." Harry nodded. Of course Malachai was right. If Seth attempted it once, he would try again. The shallow stab to his chest demonstrated he was not seeking attention—he clearly intended to end his own life. Harry levitated Seth and turned him over to lay properly on the bed, then let him float gently back to it.

"I'm going to try something," Harry decided, again producing his wand. "Legilimens."

It was some time later before Harry finally withdrew from Seth's mind. They boy's mind had been a storm of angry memories, memories of heinous crimes he had committed while under Isaac's control. It had taken much time to push those memories to the peripheral of the boy's mind, so they wouldn't be so prominent. They would still be there, but not as strong. Hopefully, it would let the boy find a bit of peace, until Harry could get someone with more skill to help.

His thoughts turned to Malachai. If Seth had such terrible memories, what would the first teen's memories be like? How was he able to keep himself composed? 'With memories such as those, I would have gone mental long ago,' thought Harry.

"I'm going to wake him up now," warned Harry, gesturing with his wand, "Rennervate."

Seth took several moments before he fully came to; Harry's memory re-sort had confused him greatly. He was, however, much calmer than a few hours ago, the exact result Harry was hoping for. He apologized profusely for the incident, of course, for which Harry answered, "No harm, no foul. No one was hurt badly, and everyone's okay, that's what matters."

"Look. We've been both terribly manipulated. It's expected you will feel as you do," added Malachai. Harry nodded, saying, "Talking about things helps… I know that's what you guys were doing a while ago, and if you need another ear, I'm here to lend it."

Stepping back into the dining room, he was surprised to find Fawkes still there, although he had his head tucked under his wing, obviously asleep. He hated to bother the bird, but yet, there was a journal he needed perhaps a little more urgently from Dumbledore's collection. If Fawkes could help, it would make things a ton easier.

"Fawkes?" The bird looked up.

"Sorry to wake you, but… I need a favour. Can you retrieve something from Dumbledore's library?" The bird shifted on his perch as though uncertain. "I just need to borrow it and I know if I asked he would probably say no. I'm not doing anything bad, it's just… the particular book—or journal I need has instructions on how to do some very advanced magic, something I want to do here in the trunk," Harry explained, then added, "Besides, when have you last had a chance to play a prank on him?"

Harry swore he saw a mischievous glint in the bird's eyes as he opened his wings and flashed away. 'Bloody hell, he didn't even wait for me to tell him which book I needed!'

……………………………………………………………………………………………

Yesterday had been a tiring day for Albus Dumbledore. He had been sure that, with the gentle nudge he had included in Sirius' letter, Harry would just return with Fawkes. Alas, this was not the case, and, as he entered his office to start the day, the bird had still not returned—he was startled out of his thoughts as said bird appeared in a burst of flames. He did not have Harry with him, however, as he settled on his perch for a few moments.

"Harry's still not decided to come back, I see." There was disappointment in Dumbledore's voice. Fawkes let out a happy trill, and looked back at the headmaster as if to say, 'He's busy and he'll come back when he's good and ready!' He lit from the perch, flying up to the upper shelf of books, seeming to look for something. Abruptly, a claw shot out, snagged a book; both bird and book vanished in another burst of golden flames.

"Perhaps Fawkes is serving two masters," said the portrait of Armando Dippet.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore spoke, "Although if Harry desired something from my collection, he could have just asked."

"Oh come off it, Dumbledore, you know exactly what your answer would have been!" the portrait of Phineas Black snorted.

"Yes, particularly THAT volume," said Dumbledore, noting the particular book Fawkes had taken. It wasn't a book, exactly, more like a heavy journal, covering some of the rarest and most advanced charms in existence. Alas, Harry most likely had a strong need of it, and it wasn't like he could just force the bird back with it. No, this was definitely a battle lost.

_(1) I know it's cheesy, but please hold the wine…_


	8. Nightmares of a Future Past

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ RRW, fifespice, nxkris, Prie, and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_WARNING: __Major spoilers for movie-verse HBP, spoilers for Deathly Hallows, violence, Character death._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: __Fawkes delivers the journal to Harry; Harry and Malachai share a most frightening dream of Harry's future; Harry has a very awkward request of Malachai; further defections by the children force Harry to make changes to the trunk; and one of Harry's worst memories comes back to haunt him…_

_

* * *

_

**8:NIGHTMARES OF A FUTURE PAST  
Or, how Harry's future memories continue to haunt him**

Harry was more than pleased, when Fawkes reappeared in front of him, and deposited the journal on the table.

"You don't know how much I appreciate your help, my friend," said Harry, gratefully. "I don't like deceiving Dumbledore, but sometimes he needs to just step back and let me solve things on my own. But I do look up to him like a grandfather, you know." The bird let out a happy trill, as if to say, 'I know that!' He regarded Harry for a second, then vanished again in a burst of golden flames.

He took the journal back to his bedroom. Even though he was off in a different world, he still had an agenda to push on with. The journal would help him exactly as it had the first time around, building and configuring a Room of Requirement. It was some of the most complicated spell work he had ever performed, and had taken the better part of a day the first time around, breaking only for meals. With that thought, he changed into pyjamas, climbed into bed, and opened the journal, but did not get far before he fell asleep.

"…_hide yourself below, Harry…" The scene was that of an open room with a high ceiling, the moonlight casting an eerie light across the floor. A large instrument of sorts took up most of the space in the room. The speaker looked to be ancient, with a long, flowing beard, eyes blinking behind half-moon spectacles. "Don't speak or be seen by anybody without my permission… Whatever happens, it's imperative you stay below. Harry? Do as I say…" the scene whirled around as Harry obeyed the man's instructions, descending a set of stairs that led under the room, this one filled with clutter. Through the loose wooden floor, however, he could still see up through, where the old man now stood alone, at least momentarily._

"_Good evening, Draco," said the old man. Harry looked up, and could see the new speaker on the other side of the room, his wand trained on the old man. "What brings you here on this fine spring evening?"_

"_Who else is here? I heard you talking," demanded Draco, harshly._

"_I often talk aloud to myself. I find it extraordinarily useful," answered the old man, appearing to be un-wavered by the threat. "Have you always been to yourself, Draco?"_

"…"

"_Draco," the old man breathed, "You are no assassin."_

"_How do you know what I am?! I've done things that would shock you," answered the boy named Draco._

"_Oh, like cursing Katie Bell and hoping that in return she would bear a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of mead with one laced with poison. Forgive me, Draco, I cannot help feel these actions are so weak that your…" the old man paused for a moment, then continued, "Heart can't really have been in it."_

"_He TRUSTS me! I've been chosen," declared Draco, doing something Harry could not see._

"_I shall make it easy for you," said the old man, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender, wand still gripped in his right hand._

"_Expelliarmus!" cried Draco, and the old man's wand clattered against a far wall._

"_Very good, very good," spoke the old man, just as a door opened somewhere out of sight. Harry looked around._

"_You are not alone? There are others. How?"_

"_The vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement," answered Draco, hastily, "I've been mending it."_

"_Let me guess. It has a sister, a twin."_

"_In Borgin and Burkes. They form a passage."_

"_Ingenious." The old man paused and then spoke, "Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you."_

"_I don't want your help! Don't you understand!? I have to do this!" said Draco, half frightened, almost pleading. Shadows were ascending a spiral staircase to the right of Harry's vision now. "I have to kill you, or he's gonna kill me!"_

"_Well, look what we have here," said a woman's voice, in mock-pleasantry. Harry could see the woman the voice belonged to in all her crazy glory; she looked like someone who escaped from the locked ward at a mental institution. "Well done, Draco."_

"_Good evening, Belletrix," said the old man, as if he were welcoming guests for afternoon tea. Draco, meanwhile, looked terrified. "I think introductions are in order, don't you?"_

"_Love to, Albus, but I'm afraid we're on a bit of a tight schedule," the woman named Belletrix answered curtly, barely a whisper that cracked like a whip, then to Draco, "Do it!"_

"_He doesn't have the stomach. Just like his father," spoke a new speaker. Harry could not see the person. "Let me finish him in my own way."_

"_NO!" Belletrix hissed, "The Dark Lord was clear the boy has to do it! This is your moment, Draco, Do it!" Harry turned to see another dark shape, his wand pointed at him, a finger to his lips. This man had long hair that curtained his face, and a hooked nose. He too disappeared up the stairs. "Go on Draco, Now!"_

"_No," spoke a new voice—the man Harry had just seen with him below._

"_Severus," spoke the old man, "…please."_

"_Avada kedavra." The scene filled with a brilliant green light, blasting the old man over the ledge and out of sight.(1)_

Malachai woke with a start, his heart pounding, and an agonized cry coming from the next room: Harry's room. Steadying his nerves, he eased out of bed, sliding on his pants, leaving the suspenders hanging loosely around the waist, then made his way quickly to Harry's room.

The boy was balled up in the middle of the bed, a mass of nerves, deep sobs echoing on the walls of the room. Had he just seen the same dream? Malachai was at a loss as to what to do at this point. 'His potions… where does he keep them?' he glanced around the room, spotting a large wardrobe. Checking it, he was disappointed. "Kreacher?"

It took several seconds before the elf in question appeared. 'Very late or very early,' Malachai realized.

"Malachai call for Kreacher?"

"Where does Harry keep his potions?" he indicated the emotionally shattered boy balled up on the bed. The elf let out a gasp, pattering over to a second cupboard. With a wave of his hand, there was a click, and the doors opened. The elf pulled out a potion, and handed it to Malachai.

"Master Harry is needing calming draught," said the elf.

"Thank you, Kreacher." The elf gave a low bow, then left the room, while Malachai sat on the edge of the bed, then gently shook Harry. "Harry?" The teen would not budge. "Harry. Look at me." The boy finally broke out of his ball, to look at Malachai. "You need to drink this." Harry reached up a shaky hand, and accepted the potion, quickly consuming it in spite of the horrid taste.

"Thank you."

"I heard your shouts. You will be okay?"

"I think," answered Harry, but as Malachai began to stand, Harry grabbed onto his suspenders, and pulled him back down. "Stay with me… please." His green eyes held more fear than anything. This, from the same boy who had begun to instil fear into Isaac—he had caught the glimmer of fear in the boy-preacher's eyes the previous day—this was most disconcerting. Sighing to himself, he obliged, allowing the younger boy to drag him into bed.

'I will not allow anything further,' the ginger-haired boy silently vowed, blowing out a breath. He lay on his back, his mind wandering back to the dream he'd just had himself. Sure, he'd committed far worse, but yet, the act he had witnessed the dark-clothed wizard commit… it just seemed exponentially heinous. The old man—obviously a wizard—gave off an aura of power… why had he allowed the boy to disarm him? It was as if… as if he were allowing himself to be killed… to be sacrificed. But, WHY?

Something was tickling Harry's nose. Dust? No, hair, his subconscious eye answered. Rough cloth rubbed against the back of his legs as well, as he lay on his side. Who… skin? His mind was still hazy. Cedric? Where am I again? He opened his eyes, and was assaulted by the insanely bright light blazing in through the false window, although partially filtered by few wisps of red hair that lay across his face. Ron? No, that wasn't right either… sure, Ron had shared a bed with him, although not to 'do' anything—they were fully clothed and it was a situation of close-quarters. Not to mention, he should—no, he was gone now… Death Eaters had caught up with him and his wife, not too long ago.

That memory still hurt, seeing two of the first friends he ever made in the wizard world being cut down so viciously—the group of Death Eaters had left very little of them behind, barely enough to bury.

The body next to him shifted, pulling the hair away from his face. It actually tickled, to tell the truth. And his smell… he smelled of the outdoors. Then, it all clicked: one of the few particularly disturbing memories that still haunted his dreams. The night he lost Dumbledore. The irony of it, was that a different killer of sorts now slept beside him. What had brought on this particular memory, though? It had been several weeks since he had dreamt of that one. It made even less sense, considering the subject of said dream was very much alive at this point (although likely not very happy with Harry at the moment).

The body next to him was Malachai, who had more than looked after him that morning—he must've gotten Kreacher to help with the potion, what with eight-year-old children in the flat, it wouldn't do for them to get into something. Some items in his stores were fatal if used incorrectly. He had to smile, turning over to face the other boy. He was laying face-down now, sprawled out over his side of the bed. 'Restless sleeper,' Harry thought, observing the boy. Lots of freckles on his back to match those which covered his face, and that massive mop of red hair. If only Ron had 'swung that way'…

Of course, by Malachai's hesitation at the request, Harry knew not to ever push things. As much as he might WISH for every attractive boy on the planet to 'play that end of the field', it wasn't reality. 'Besides,' he thought, he had someone waiting back in his own world who, absolutely DID play that way… A smirk covered his lips, as he thought about his boyfriend, and his cock very quickly arose to the occasion. 'Shit, most inappropriate,' thought Harry again, trying quickly to douse the fire that threatened to run away with him. 'If Malachai saw that… bloody hell.' The tent in his pyjamas slowly deflated, and Harry sighed with relief.

"My, my, Prongslet, you move quickly," James praised from his portrait.

"Dad! Shhhh! I was in a bad way this morning… he helped me," answered Harry, "Besides… even if he did, err… well, play that end of the field… I couldn't." He flicked his hand at the journal that had fallen on the floor, and summoned it. "I dreamed about Dumbledore's death again."

"Does that happen often, dear?" questioned Lily.

"Not as much now, but… before I came back, it was a regular one. That one, or Cedric's death… or Sirius' death… or Ron and Hermione… or—"

"We get your point," said Lily, sadly. Her son had suffered horrors many times over. It was a miracle he hadn't checked himself into St. Mungo's.

"What are you up to today?" questioned James, trying to steer the conversation into safer territory.

"Haven't decided yet… maybe bother Isaac again. But I also have a fair bit of reading to do." Harry gestured to the journal on his lap. "I 'borrowed' it from Dumbledore's library—I'll put it back once I'm done," said Harry, seeing his mother purse her lips. "Better to do it and ask forgiveness than it is to get permission(2)."

Harry settled back in the bed, conjuring a few extra pillows to prop himself up, then dove into the journal in front of him. It was more a refresher in most things, yet, the notes on the 'magic room', as the book called it, were the real reason for him borrowing it. More parchment was summoned once he had located the section. "Geminio," he spoke at the starting page, making a copy of it. It was known that the duplication spell usually didn't work all that well. Once again, however, Harry was by no means an ordinary wizard at this point, and a spell required more than just wand motion and pronunciation. It also required will and intent, both of which Harry focused very well. So, the page before him was a very close facsimile of the original.

A snort, and a sigh from beside him drew his attention to the other body that occupied the bed. Malachai opened his eyes, blinking up at Harry—he was still on his stomach, face partially pressed into the pillow. He arched an eyebrow, then lifted his head off the pillow.

"Thanks… for looking out for me this morning," said Harry, "I know… I know I probably made you uncomfortable, but… if I was home… I would've had Cedric and—"

"It's all right," said Malachai, holding up a hand, "Just… don't expect much from me, I'm about as cuddly as a cactus."

"I doubt that… but mate, I know what boundaries mean, and I'm sorry I pushed on yours. It won't happen again," said Harry, solemnly.

"Although, prongslet, you could demand just about anything from him and he'd have to do it," James quipped up.

"Dad!" said Harry, glaring at his father, but the damage was done. Malachai looked at Harry nervously. "Is what your father said true?"

"Do you know what a life debt is?"

"No."

"When a wizard saves the life of another person, especially another witch or wizard, that person is owed a life debt. It means, as my prat of a father so elegantly put it, the witch or wizard owed the debt can ask just about anything of the person. I mean, as it stands, I owe Snape several life debts. I don't think he realizes that or not—and I'd do whatever he asks because of exactly that. Owing a life debt to someone is humbling, the best way to look at it… because that person thought the other's life was worth saving. Does that make sense?"

"I think so. Does that mean… I owe you?" Harry nodded his head slowly, but said, "It's not something I would ever collect on, unless it was… That sort of thing comes from old pureblood traditions, some of which I think should die a horrible death somewhere along the line. And I mean, to put it better… the only thing I ask of you in repayment, is your friendship, Malachai."

"Harry, you are a far greater man than I ever will be."

"And stop degrading yourself! Bloody hell, you have to forgive yourself, mate," said Harry, gripping the other boy on the shoulder, "Forgiveness starts in your own heart, inside you."

Malachai nodded, then said, "So what would happen if things were reversed?"

"I would owe you, then. But normally, Muggles are unaware of such things," Harry explained. "I just hope we're never put in that kind of position. Not just because I don't want another life debt hanging over my head, but… the implications, you understand?" Malachai nodded. "It's a grave thing, and it is so for both parties."

"Harry. Is this Dumbledore an old wizard?"

"Yes, going on a hundred and fifty or so," answered Harry.

"I too, saw this dream. A dark clothed wizard killed him."

"Bloody hell. It woke you up too?"

"Yeah. What happened? Why was he killed?"

Harry only gave a nod, setting the journal aside, then made himself more comfortable, facing his new friend. It would require a lengthy explanation, after all. "The old wizard was—or should I say, 'is', the headmaster of my school. He also leads the fight against Voldemort. During what should have been my sixth year, Draco Malfoy—you saw him disarm Dumbledore—fixed a cabinet in a secret room in the school, letting Death Eaters in. The man who actually killed him is a teacher."

"A teacher?"

"Yeah. At the time… I didn't know exactly what was going on behind the scenes. You see, the teacher, Snape, never has got along with me. I always suspected he was playing both sides, only pretending to be helping Dumbledore, but truly only working for Voldemort. His killing of Dumbledore all but confirmed that in my mind, until I found out otherwise, much later. He in fact had killed Dumbledore on his orders, to keep his cover as a loyal Death Eater. I think that hurt almost as much… Dumbledore likes to keep things from me, see."

"Apparently."

"As for Snape, you'll meet him eventually. He's got access rights to the trunk, after all. One of the few people I trust implicitly. He knows about this particular memory, I think it even made HIM pause. Whether or not it'll prevent things from playing out that way later on… that remains to be seen, I guess. Anyway… not long after that, Voldemort took over the ministry of magic, and Snape became headmaster at Hogwarts."

"So Dumbledore sacrificed himself?"

"Yeah, he did," answered Harry, "It made it possible for Snape… like I said, to become Headmaster. He did the best he could to protect the students against the Death Eaters in the school, but what would have been my seventh year was… most unpleasant—I didn't attend, because well… I was on a mission for Dumbledore. My best friends and I, actually. And we had almost finished… there was one item I could never find," said Harry, seeming to be whispering mostly to himself, "Could never get close to Nagini, Voldemort's familiar. If only we could have… the war wouldn't have lasted so many years… there wouldn't have been so many deaths. Once he realized we were hunting Horcruxes, he kept Nagini close to his side… and that's when Snape sent me some pensieve memories—I'll show you what a pensieve is sometime… but I was able to view a bunch of his memories, it explained a lot as to why he is… well, why he acts the way he does, and more importantly, the part he played. It was both eye-opening, a relief, and devastating all at the same time."

"He told you about the Horcrux inside you," Malachai assumed. Harry nodded. "Yeah, exactly. Or, more like, Dumbledore told him about it, and Snape included that memory in the batch he sent me."

"How did you get rid of it?"

"Well, Dumbledore said Voldemort himself had to do it, but I didn't believe it. I ended up using basilisk venom on the scar, and with Kreacher's help, he healed me using phoenix tears—phoenix tears can heal just about any injury. I had to 'die' to get rid of it—"

"Don't ever ask me to do that for you, Harry."

"No. That's something I will have to ask Kreacher to do again, probably in the near future. I need to ask Fawkes to donate a few of his tears."

"Did it hurt?"

"Well, if you can imagine a white-hot poker being shoved between your eyes—or where my scar is, more accurately, that's an apt description," answered Harry.

"How far into the future do you come from?" questioned Malachai. Of course the boy had caught on.

"Well, that's a complicated answer," said Harry, "Officially, I'm thirteen years from the future. But, in reality, I'm about twenty-four years from the future."

"How did that happen?"

"I swear the universe hates me," answered Harry, "All I wanted to do was die. Pass on, be with my parents and my friends. But the cosmos thought it would be a big prank to send me back in time eleven years. So now instead of celebrating my twenty-seventh birthday in a few weeks, I'll be fifteen."

"Sweetheart, this is a second chance for you. Don't you realize that?" Lily pointed out. But Harry only glared back, snarling, "I didn't ASK for it! I didn't WANT it! All I wanted, was peace of mind, and I won't find that here. It's like the universe said my best wasn't good enough, understand? Like those who died—died in vain!"

"But Harry, all those people… they're still alive now. You have a chance to prevent their deaths," James pointed out.

"And in my case, you… you've saved me," added Malachai. Harry only nodded, but he was still unconvinced.

It was some time before they finally got out of bed for the day. In fact, it was nearing lunch time. So, after a quick lunch, and consulting the map, Harry went into his bedroom, and retrieved his Firebolt.

"Let me guess… you actually ride it," said Malachai.

"Of course!" answered Harry, "And after this morning… I need to do this. Coming with?"

"What!? Um…" Harry just grabbed Malachai by the arm and they vanished with a soft POP.

Outside the trunk, Harry made to add Malachai to the wards, then remembered something. "What's your real name?"

"What for?"

"Well, if you want to get into the trunk without my help—"

"Oh, of course. It's Craig. Craig Boardman."

"Addendum, Craig Boardman," spoke Harry, gesturing at the trunk with a free hand. The lid once again glowed green.

"Do not… use my real name. I have lost the right to use it." Harry only nodded, seeing the boy still had a long way to go before he could ever forgive himself.

"I can understand that. Let's go flying," spoke Harry, quickly mounting the broom, and shifting forward. The older boy was a little uncertain, but climbed on behind, and was surprised to find it actually felt like there was a seat there.

"Right. Arms around my waist, and hold on." Malachai did so, and Harry gently lifted into the air. This was not to be a crazy flight by any means, having respect for his passenger, who had not been on a broom before.

"Where are we going?"

"The clearing," answered Harry, "There's something I want to do today, something that will piss off the demonic entity here to no end."

"You sure it's wise to anger it?"

"It can't do anything to me. It tried getting into my head before, and I mean, if I was able to hold Voldemort out, this thing's a picnic."

Harry was careful not to go too fast, as they made a track to the clearing. Not surprisingly, there were a few children gathered, with Isaac again holding court. Of course they all scattered, seeing Harry and Malachai on the broom. Harry landed in the middle of the clearing, and after handing Malachai the broom, began to draw a series of runes in the dirt, activating each one with a tap from an index finger. Each lit up either blue or red, to sink into the ground.

"What is it you think you're doing, sorcerer?!" demanded Isaac, finally finding his voice.

"Cleansing, of course," answered Harry, as he drew another rune, "The ground here is cursed. Don't worry, it'll be cleaned up in a jiffy!" he said, his voice cheery, while Malachai smirked behind him, holding the broom so the bristles barely touched the ground.

"How dare you profane this sacred place!" The same seventeen year old girl from the day before screamed, "Practicing witchcraft! Blasphemy!"

"But what do you intend to do about it, Ruth?" questioned Malachai, "It is as it was yesterday, you will not interfere with the wizard's business."

"We are done here," Harry drawled, "Sorry for the interruption. Maybe we'll drop by for tea later. I'll bring Seth by, too. I'm sure you'll like to see him." With that, he and Malachai mounted the broom, and lifted off into the air.

"The Lord will not stand for this, sorcerer!" Isaac preached, "He will punish you for your wicked ways!"

"Yeah, heard it all before," Harry smirked, and with that, they were off, rapidly picking up speed. Isaac looked closely at the spot where Harry had been drawing. The only evidence he had been there, was where he brushed away the dirt. The strange symbols he drew had each literally vanished into the soil.

Meanwhile, Harry and Malachai had once again touched down, about three miles due south of the clearing. It was here, Harry began drawing another series of runes, where again, each one vanished into the soil.

"What are the symbols?" questioned Malachai.

"Runes. Each has a meaning, see. They string together to form words, and in turn, spells. It took me a long time to grasp it… Hermione was better at it than I was, for a while—boy, is she in for a surprise," Harry smirked, as he finished another symbol.

"What are we doing?"

"Exactly as I told Isaac. Cleansing. This will hurt the demon greatly, equally diminishing its power."

"It will kill the corn, then," said Malachai. Harry shrugged, "If it does, I'm not concerned. The crop is cursed, then. It should all be destroyed, it's not fit to eat."

It took the afternoon to complete, marking eight locations in a circle three miles' radius from the clearing. At last, they returned to the trunk. Surprisingly, about eight children were sitting in the driveway to the service station, all looking expectantly at the boys, as they landed.

"What do you want," Malachai demanded, his hand going for his blade. Harry gripped his arm, however. "What can we do for you?"

"Help us break away from Isaac," declared a twelve-year-old girl.

"Thought so. All right. Malachai. Hold my broom. Rest of you, get close together… hold hands tightly… good. Now, I do warn you, this may be uncomfortable, but it's the only way." The children all looked up with determined looks on their faces. They ranged in age between eight and twelve years old. Three girls, and five boys. "Ready?"

"Ready," came their voices in unison.

"FINITE INCANTATUM!" Harry growled, his hand thrust at the group.

As Isaac spoke with his new lieutenant, his mind's eye once again revealed the snapping of threads. Eight of them, one by one, snapped and shrivelled away. This time, it was accompanied by a terrifying scream that rocked Isaac to the core. 'He' was angry. VERY angry.

With this latest defection, Harry was faced with a dilemma. The trunk was not designed to handle that many people just yet. It looked like an expansion was needed sooner rather than later. So, after introductions and laying down a few rules, he left the two older boys in charge, and began to make changes.

The corner where the ladder was became an entrance hall of sorts, with a set of stairs going up. It was a lot of work, pushing his magical core to its limits, but the boys—and Kreacher, for that matter—were more than helpful keeping Harry supplied with chocolate and other high calorie foods. There was a good reason one rarely saw a seriously overweight witch or wizard, after all.

The stairs led to a dormitory, which held nearly twenty beds, and its own common area. A number of toys and games were conjured that would help keep the kids occupied. 'Of course,' he thought, 'Once I get the Room of Requirement built, there will be exponentially more to do.'

The dining room also received a makeover, to better accommodate the group, as thirteen people now shared the space. Harry decided to set up two tables with eight seats apiece, leaving room for three more. The ceiling had been raised by a fair bit, and the room was now lit by four large chandeliers, each holding dozens of ever-burn candles—the same candles used in the great hall at Hogwarts.

After the busy afternoon and evening, Harry wasted no time getting off to bed, after arranging for Kreacher to wake him up before sunrise. After a brief call to Cedric, he found sleep.

Unfortunately, sleep did not bring peace. Harry once again found himself in the graveyard, the high, cold voice calling in a whisper, "Kill the spare."

"Avada kedavra!" cried Wormtail to the night, and Harry spun to see the killing curse strike. But it was not Cedric standing in the path of the green bolt of magic… it was Malachai.

* * *

_This chapter's title pays homage to a story I once read a while back, called "Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Futures Past", an amazing 'redo' fiction by Viridian, look it up on Fanfiction . net. Beware, as far as I know, it's not completed, but what was posted so far was awesome. It's Harry/Ginny, but that's all right, being the only canon het-pairing I support for Harry. Some people say it was a bit fast, and in some ways I do agree, but this is neither here nor there. I mean, we do have the Bill/Fleur fiasco… *groans* hate that pairing._

_I should also note, Harry's dreams—or nightmares are going to play a part in this story. The things he's seen, realize, ten or more years of horrors. It's bound to have a terrible effect. Post-traumatic stress disorder, anyone?_

_(1) This is 99 percent verbatim from the movie-verse HBP, other than it being told completely from Harry's perspective. I debated about using the book-verse, but that would have resulted in 10 pages or so, rehashing that particular scene, something I wished to avoid._

_(2) As quoted by USN Rear Adm. Grace Hopper, pioneer in the computer field (1906 – 1992)_


	9. A Debt Paid in Full

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ fifespice, and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Coarse language, mild spoilers for Philosopher's Stone._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry performs a blood ritual in the clearing that gives Malachai a good idea just how powerful Harry is; Harry has his first real confrontation with He-who-walks-behind-the-rows; More children defect from Isaac; Malachai faces a frightening decision that could mean the death of both himself and Harry… and Harry ends up getting a most distressing phone call from Sirius._

_

* * *

_

**9:A DEBT PAID IN FULL  
Or, a muggle on a broom equals trouble**

Harry's wake-up call came way too early for his liking.

"Master Harry is needing to get up now," spoke Kreacher, gently prodding Harry in the ribs. Harry let out a giggle, as it actually tickled.

"Mmm?" A moan came from the other side of the bed. Blinking in the near dark, he realized that for the second night in a row, he was not alone.

"Kreacher is making breakfast," announced the elf, and he popped away.

'Note to self,' thought Harry, as his eyes adjusted to the light, 'Silencing charms on the door from here on out.' Malachai had again slept in Harry's bed. So what had it been this time? Right, the 'grave yard' scene, with an ugly substitution. Had Malachai seen it? He'd already shared two of Harry's nasty nightmares, so it wouldn't surprise him.

"If you're coming with me, you need to get up," said Harry, "Watch out, I'm turning on the lights." With a wave of his hand, the candles lit, bathing the room in soft light.

"Your dream last night… is that how… how Cedric died?"

"Yeah. But it wasn't Cedric this time, you and I both know that," said Harry, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "It's a revolving door of everyone I ever cared about, all put in that scene at one point. Fate's way of torturing me, I guess."

"You woke up screaming. I could not just do nothing."

"Thanks… again. I'm sorry you have to live my nightmares."

"Harry… my life has been nothing BUT a nightmare for the past three years. To have to deal with one of yours once in a while carries nothing against that," spoke Malachai, as he too, sat on the edge of the bed. This time, he had been smart, bringing his shirt and boots along, and so was dressed quickly.

After saying a quick hello to his parents, they made their way out to the dining room, where, indeed, Kreacher had laid out a light breakfast for the two boys. A few slices of fruit, porridge with brown sugar and milk, and two glasses of pumpkin juice awaited.

Breakfast was over in a hurry, and as the light just started to break on the eastern horizon, the two boys were already in the air, flying out to the first location where the runes had been cast the previous day. Harry wasted no time setting down, and as Malachai watched, Harry worked quickly, tracing one simple rune in the soil. "Activus," he spoke, jabbing his wand into the ground. The rune gave off a brilliant white light, before vanishing into the soil.

The same was repeated for the remaining seven points around the six-mile-diameter circle. It was at last beginning to get light as Harry and Malachai set down in the clearing. The burnt remains of the cross still stood, although the corpse had been destroyed, and the cross member was gone. Harry directed his wand at the remains, casting a strong banishing charm, scattering it to the wind. Harry gestured with his hand, putting up a strong detection ward, which would alert him if anyone else encroached on them during the ritual he was about to perform.

"All right, now the real fun. I can do this entirely on my own, but… if you want, you can help."

"Help clean some of the nightmare I helped cause? I think you already know my answer, Harry."

"I warn you, it's blood magic. It needs a small blood offering."

"That does not matter. I will do what is needed."

"Then let's kneel." Harry indicated the spot where the runes had been cast the day before. Once both were kneeling, Harry again traced a rune in the ground, the same symbol he had used on all the other locations. "All right. Take out your knife, and prick the end of your finger. We just need a couple of drops." Malachai drew his knife, and sliced the end of his thumb. "Let a few drops fall on the rune, while speaking, 'my blood, offered freely.'"

"My blood, offered freely," spoke Malachai, as two drops of his blood fell on the rune, causing it to glow a brilliant red. This time, the rune did not fade.

"Slice my thumb, as you did yours," Harry instructed, and Malachai did so. This time, Harry allowed four drops of his blood to fall on the rune, speaking, "My blood, freely offered from the place it came, calling on the wells of magic, to cleanse this space of the evil that has befallen here. By the thin veil that separates our world this hour, call back the force that dwells here, back where it belongs, so mote it be!!"

"So mote it be," added Malachai, sheathing his blade. Harry's eyes blinked open at the utterance. How did he know?! Yet, the thought did not continue, as the rune glowed a brilliant red again, this time casting a column of light up into infinity.

At that same instant, a horrible shriek echoed across the field, and the wind suddenly seemed to pick up, making the corn rustle in the early morning air.

"It's HIM!" said Malachai, alarmed. The air seemed to crackle with angry energy, as the wind was getting more fierce. The sky itself seemed to be darkening, steadily blocking out the waxing light of dawn. Harry simply gripped Malachai about the shoulder, while again driving his wand into the earth beside the brilliant red column of light. "By my magic I command the veil to remove this blight upon this world! Demon, return from whence you came, you are not welcome here!"

"It is you that is not welcome here, sorcerer!" the voice came from inside his head, sounding like a hundred voices all speaking in unison.

"Be gone from here, you do not belong here!" Harry spoke again, equally as forcefully, twisting his wand in the soil. The column of light blinked for a second, turning an angry purple, before resuming its red colour. The hundred voices seemed to laugh before speaking, "Such amateur magic. You cannot defeat me, you are not much stronger a boy than the one who does my bidding, Harry Potter."

"You do not have the right to speak my name, demon!" Harry hissed in his head. Another laugh from the demon. "Such bravery, coming from a boy such as yourself. I could use such a powerful spirit…"

"You have to be joking," Harry scoffed, "You aren't the first evil being to tempt me with the dark arts, probably won't be the last. You're just like another wizard I know. Well… seeing as how you treat Isaac, and all the other kids around here… you probably don't know what love and trust mean—"

"Such laughable, WEAK things, mortal!" the demon laughed, "What are they, compared with and darkness, hate, and DEATH?"

"Weak? I think NOT!!" Harry hissed, throwing up some of the strongest memories he had of exactly that. Seeing Cedric for the first time after coming back… his godfather… his best friends… his new friends… things he had used, or would use to power his Patronus charm.

Another terrible shriek echoed across the cornfield, and Harry faltered, collapsing to the ground. The storm raging around them threatened to open up on top of them, the light blazing from the ground seeming to get brighter.

"Harry?" The boy had passed out. Worse, there was a blue shimmer on an invisible dome, and it didn't take Malachai a lot of reasoning to determine people were approaching the clearing. "Not good. C'mon, Harry…" He glanced over at Harry's broom, laying on the ground close-by. Sure, he'd been on it a few times now, but Harry had not let him actually CONTROL it before! Still, it was the only way out. Mustering up his courage, Malachai dragged Harry over to the broom, and straddled it. He then hauled Harry up so he was draped over the handle like a bulky package, and finally gripped said handle.

"What in—STOP! SIEZE THEM!" Isaac shouted, bursting into the clearing. Malachai panicked, almost falling off the broom, but managed to get it moving. Unfortunately, it was aimed right for Isaac.

"TRAITOR! YOU'RE CRAZY!" Isaac shrieked, as the broom shot straight at him, and he was forced to duck, as it shot right over his head. He felt the wind over his head, as the right stirrup passed within inches of it. Malachai finally figured out how to gain some height, and it was a good thing; a wall of corn was looming up VERY fast, and in a matter of seconds, he would be harvesting said corn the hard way.

It was a good thing they had left the circle, for a fraction of a second later, the light erupted into a brilliant bright white column that seemed to swamp the entire clearing. Spiders of the light were also spreading out in a circle away from it, lighting up the field in a crazed pattern. The strange weather ceased at once, the clouds dissipating, restoring the early morning light.

Isaac, too, was affected at that moment, as he was wracked from head to toe with excruciating pain. The other children who had come out with him to the clearing could only watch, as he thrashed about on the ground. This was a stark contrast to the leader they were used to seeing. Never mind the fact the real muscle of the group was now the enemy. They could see his red hair flying wistfully around in the air as he soared away into the morning light on the wizard's broom.

"Harry, come on, wake up," Malachai pleaded, still trying to figure out how to control the broom. The last time he'd made any abrupt movements with his hands, he'd almost crashed the broom, and that was miles ago. The sun was finally up, quickly banishing the early morning chill that hung in the air. He could only watch the miles of country roads and farm land pass below, hoping and praying Harry would wake up. 'With my luck, we might end up over Saskatchewan by that time,' he thought.

A slight moan gave him hope.

"Where… where are we?" Harry questioned, his voice barely a whisper. Then, a gasp. "Bloody hell!"

"If you can tell me how to…"

"Pull back… pull back gently on the handle," said Harry, his voice barely a whisper. Malachai did as instructed, and they came to a stop.

"A debt… paid in full," Harry whispered, and Malachai could feel a warm tingle run down his back. "Now… move your hands back a bit, and push the handle down… it'll take us down…" Harry looked down and saw they were just over an empty patch of field, an opportune place to land. Yet, how many Muggles had seen them? No, that was the least of the problems at the moment. His mind was still slightly clouded after the jarring conversation with the demon.

They finally set down in the field, and Malachai was more than happy to dismount the broom. Harry, however, would have none of it. "No, stay put. Let me climb on behind you. My mind's still a little hazy, might not be a good idea for me to control the broom."

"NO! I can't!"

"Yes you can! You did more than acceptable," answered Harry, "Given the fact you've never actually controlled the broom before. You saved both our lives, you know. The light would have consumed everything in the clearing."

"Isaac arrived," said Malachai.

"If they entered the clearing, they would have died. I know that from experience."

"You've done that…"

"Ritual before? Yes, several times. It's a deep earth cleansing ritual. Usually for spaces that have been contaminated by extremely dark magic. It's not really meant to be used while the space is still occupied by a demon or whatever," explained Harry, while Malachai shifted forward. Harry climbed on behind, wrapping his arms around the older boy. "Now. Pull back on the handle, gently. Too fast, and we'll shoot up like a shot; it could throw us off—exactly!" Harry praised, as the broom lifted into the air. He waited for them to gain some height, then went to draw his wand. It wasn't there. "Fuck!"

"What?"

"My wand…"

"You mean this?" Malachai produced the missing instrument from his waistband. He had remembered to grab it before dragging Harry to the broom.

"You're a lifesaver, Malachai." Harry tapped the broom, then himself, and the older boy, then muttered something in Latin. Malachai felt as if cold water had been dumped over him.

"What was that?"

"Disillusionment charm," supplied Harry. "Okay, this is high enough. Ease back on the handle, but move your hands up a bit… good. Now push down a little—no, slower," said Harry, as the broom jerked a bit. The boy eased off the motion, and the broom slowed. "Nice. Now, to turn around, lean to the left or right—good—no, too far—just right… okay, see the column of light?"

"That's where we're headed?"

"Right. Not too fast yet, until you get the feel for it… flying's a really simple thing once you get the hang of it." Malachai nodded, pressing the handle forward a bit more. They sped up.

Judging by the height of the sun, they had been flying for several hours. It didn't make sense. What had actually knocked him out? The ritual, or the demon? This one was a strong one, stronger than one a group of Death Eaters had managed to summon in the Dark Forest. It took him and the Order, along with the light-sided teachers from Hogwarts nearly six hours to banish it. It had been only by pure luck no students had been injured or killed; that likely would have been the case, had the beast been able to get inside the wards and the castle.

Either way, Malachai had done an admirable job getting the two of them to safety, not hesitating in the slightest. Sure, he had flown them many miles in a single direction, but that was better than being obliterated by the massive channel of raw magic that erupted from the gate, if the ritual was correct. By the looks of the column of light that lit from the south east, the ritual had in fact worked. The thing was, would the demon still be there? Had they actually banished it?

"Harry?"

"Uh huh?"

"Why do we fly, when you can just… well… do what you do and pop from place to place?"

"I find solitude up here," answered Harry, "Up here, see, I'm not the boy-who-lived. I'm free of all that dragon shit that's heaped on my shoulders. Score double points if I'm doing so with someone I now consider a close friend. Whatever's happening down there can wait for a bit, I think—unless you really want to… to get back on the ground."

"No, I think I quite like flying."

"I took to it the first time I touched a broom. Of course, not even that could go normally for me. I ended up showing extraordinary skill—entirely by accident, of course, and made the house Quidditch team. Youngest Seeker in a century."

"Quidditch… the game you and your father were talking about."

"Yeah. Bloody rough game though… you'll see in the fall, if not sooner."

It was mid-afternoon before they at last returned to Gatlin, at which time Harry cancelled the disillusionment charm. They could see several groups of children at different locations, all of them with their eyes fixed on the broom as it passed over the town. Harry did not react, however, and they kept an even course for the service station, not far in the distance.

Landing at said station, they found another six children, four of them girls, standing in the parking lot. A touch of Legilimency on one of them determined honest intent to defect. A strongly placed "FINITE INCANTATUM", and the group were taken into the trunk, to be reunited with the growing group. Nearly a quarter of the children had then been pulled away from Isaac's grasp.

During supper, a girl of about seventeen raised a very important point. "Sir, I have a question."

"Please call me Harry."

"I'm Esther. Anyway… you have saved many of us, and thank you for it… but… you do realize, for the past three years there has been no school in Gatlin. Isaac forbade any of us from it, calling it forbidden knowledge."

"Doesn't surprise me. What would you like to do about it?"

"Well," said Seth, "The school should still have most of the books. We could go and collect them."

"I don't know much about Muggle education… that stopped for me when I turned eleven. So it will be up to you older lot to organize it. But I can certainly help you to collect appropriate text books and other things you might need from the school."

"You know where it is?" questioned Esther. Harry nodded, saying, "We flew over the town this afternoon, coming back from our, err… little adventure this morning."

"What is it you did this morning anyway?" questioned a boy of about thirteen.

"I asked the natural magic in the earth to cleanse the cornfield. He who walks behind the rows took exception to that, I think."

"Considering it knocked you out for a few hours," said Malachai.

"Well, I'm still not sure what did that. I do still feel rather weak… even with assistance from the earth, I still taxed my magic greatly today. I won't be doing anything significant tonight, so I hope a few of you don't mind less-than comfortable arrangements overnight."

"The two new boys may have my room," Malachai decided, "I will sleep in Harry's room." Harry looked at the boy questioningly, but only nodded, seeing a glint of amusement in the red-head's eyes. Oh yes, the boy's heart and soul were most definitely thawing, and his old personality was starting to assert itself again. Harry knew there was a person under the mask.

"Well. That answers that. Back on track… tomorrow at dawn, I'll put a Muggle-repelling charm around the school, and we can collect materials at our leisure later."

"What's a Muggle?" questioned a ten-year-old girl.

"Non-magical folk, like you," answered Harry, "Or like Isaac and those still blinded by his manipulations. We don't want any of his flock calling on us when we're working. The confrontation would not be pleasant."

Harry finally decided to call it a night as it closed in on 1 am. Malachai had already fell asleep, his soft breathing coming from his side of the bed. Most of the lights in the room were dimmed, save for a single candle on the bedside table, giving Harry just enough light to read by. He had finished making copies of the chapter he needed out of the journal, and would in the next couple of days attempt to create a Room of Requirement.

Just as he went to blow out the candle, the phone the twins had sent him vibrated. Harry picked it up, pressing the on/off button. "Hello?"

"Harry! Thank gods we got hold of you." It was Sirius.

"What's wrong?"

"They've summoned me to face the Wizengamot in an hour."

"WHAT?!"

"You'll need to call for Fawkes, Harry, but it would be best if you are here."

"I know. I'll get there as quick as I can. I'll be bringing my trunk back as well."

"I'll wait for your arrival, then." With that, the line cut.

"Whazzgoinon?" Malachai mumbled, half asleep.

"Emergency back in my world, we have to go. Fawkes! You hear me?!" The bird in question immediately appeared in a burst of golden flames.

"I don't know how long I'm gonna be, but I'm taking the trunk anyway. Got a bad feeling about this."

"Harry, wait. I'm coming too."

"NO. Malachai, this may be dangerous. My godfather's about to be tried by the wizard government, it could get very ugly. Please, stay here. I'll be back when I'm done."

"Be safe." His new friend came around the bed, and gave Harry a tight hug.

"I will." Harry turned to Fawkes. "Can you apparate with me?" The bird nodded. "Good." Harry held out his arm, on which the phoenix landed. "Get some sleep, Malachai. I'll be all right." With that, he twisted on the spot; both boy and bird vanished with a loud POP.

Once outside in the service station, he collected his trunk. "Okay, take me back to Sirius' place." Fawkes lit into the air, offering his tail feathers. Harry grasped them, and both vanished in a brilliant flash of golden flames. The brilliant column of white light ceased to rise from the clearing, the caster having vanished, breaking the anchor.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So… did Harry use 'the power he knows not' against He who walks behind the rows? *cackles manically* Malachai flying the broom? I know, probably a bit campy, but still fun. I've seen some people complain about Muggles being able to ride brooms, but this is AU, right. I do like to bend canon now and then--or maybe a lot...  
_


	10. Blinded Justice

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ StoryTagger, child-of-paradox-and-chaos, kehlencrow, GeminiCancer, and nljfs__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Violence, death, coarse language._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Cornelius Fudge makes an enemy out of Harry;__ Cedric returns, and finds out a few interesting changes have taken place; Cedric and Malachai meet rather awkwardly and Harry has to back-peddle to put out a fire; a certain pair of twins invade the trunk; and another confrontation with Isaac in the clearing has devastating results._

_

* * *

_

**10:BLINDED JUSTICE  
Or, how the minister of magic makes an enemy of harry potter**

The light magic had held the demon at bay, but that was all. With the barrier gone, it wasted little time reasserting itself. The damage done to the corn since dawn was negligible, and the demon quickly directed its energies at healing the crop, although it detracted from it repairing the more serious damage caused by the fire a month or so prior.

The mortal had certainly gave it more of a run than expected, but it had still outlasted him. A boy of only fifteen had limited resources, after all, while it had a deep well to draw on. It drew on deep earth magic too, although its taps began at dusk, and ended when dawn's first rays of light were cast across the land. The night was, after all, HIS time.

Harry found himself in the sitting room of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and found himself instantly smothered by a strong hug from his godfather. "Harry! You made it, thank Merlin."

"No, thank Fawkes." Said bird had lit over to the back of a chair to rest for a moment. "Let me put my trunk down… may I use your room?"

"Of course, although, where is your trunk?" questioned Sirius. Harry grinned, and pulled the item in question out of his pocket. "Ah."

It took only a minute for Harry to put said trunk away. He then popped into it for a moment, and quickly changed into something more appropriate. He was, after all, appearing at Sirius' trial… or so he assumed. As he had hoped, Malachai had gone back to bed, and now lay sprawled out taking up most of his bed. Harry popped back out of the trunk and returned to the sitting room. "Okay, how we getting there?"

"My, pup, you dress up just for me?"

"Well, I want to look at least HALF decent, right? I've got an image to project these days."

"Indeed. We'll be floo'ing to the ministry, Harry," said Sirius, pulling Harry to the fireplace.

"Right," said Harry, "I'll go first," he decided, then stopped. "Wait. I don't know, but I don't trust the ministry as far as I can throw them. Does Dumbledore know?"

"An owl was sent, but he didn't send anything back." Harry only nodded, then went hunting in his pockets. "Ah. Perfect." He pulled out two dried kernels of corn. "Portus," he whispered, along with another incantation Sirius did not hear.

"Port keys? What did you do to them?"

"It circumvents the detection charms the ministry has. If this goes pear-shaped, use it. The activation phrase is 'I will not set foot in Azkaban ever again'," said Harry, pocketing the second port key.

"You speak the truth there, Harry. Where will it take me?"

"Here. Immediately use the floo and go into my trunk. I warn you, there's a bunch of kids there, but they should all be asleep anyway—we were just going to bed when you called. You also might want to leave your wand here, just in case."

"Let's go. We're going to be late," said Sirius, placing his wand above the mantle of the fireplace.

Unlike as expected, there were no shrieks of horror when Sirius Black stepped out of the floo with his godson, into the Ministry of Magic atrium. Once passed through security, they were met by several Aurors, two of which were Order members: Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks.

"'morning, Tonks, Shacklebolt," Harry grinned.

"Wotcher, Harry. Glad to see you've made it back."

"Well, that's just a temporary thing," answered Harry, as they made their way to the elevators. "I was told the hearing was this morning and I made sure to be here."

"There shouldn't be any issues, Harry. In fact, it's unlikely more than half the membership will actually show up," said Tonks.

"Err…"

"What, Harry?" questioned Sirius, as the elevator began its descent.

"Well, if the Wizengamot was unsure of whether they could get something to pass, they would make sure to have everyone here… if they're only going for quorum, they're certain of support, or in this case, a conviction," said Harry, uneasily.

Harry had a sense of impending doom as they exited the elevator, and headed for courtroom 10 on the floor below, a room he was most definitely familiar with. It was where his life had turned into chaos 11 years prior.

The room was every bit dark and foreboding as it had been so long ago, its long benches going around the outside of the room, although this time only a portion of the Wizarding government sat at one end, each wearing plum-coloured robes, the silvery 'W' emblazoned on the upper left chest.

"Mr. Black, Mr. Potter. You were almost late," a voice declared. Fudge, of course, sat in his familiar position in the very middle of the front row.

"I had only received notification by owl an hour ago," spoke Sirius, "I do hope there was a reason why it was dispatched so late."

"It is not the fault of—"

"Bollocks it isn't!" Harry hissed, "You know—"

"Harry!" Sirius admonished. Harry instantly shut his mouth, realizing he'd almost said too much.

"Very well. If we may begin," spoke Fudge.

"Ready sir." 'Ah, of course, Percy,' Harry remembered, sourly. How could he forget? Like the first time, he was seated at the end of the bench, a quill and parchment ready.

"Criminal proceedings of the tenth of July," spoke Fudge, in a clear, ringing voice that made Harry feel like he was experiencing déjà vu, "into offences committed under the Wizarding criminal code, and the International Statute of Secrecy by one Sirius Orion Black, resident of—" Fudge paused, asking Sirius, "Where do you currently reside?"

"I decline to answer," answered Sirius. Fudge glared at the defendant, then continued, "of no fixed address…"

Harry tuned things out for now, having taken to a seat off to the side of the room. The court room itself was actually packed, now he realized it, with people wanting to see the terrifying murderer named Sirius Black. He'd not really noticed them when he entered, but now sitting at an angle, he could see the crowd. There were murmurs and whispering, some of them pointing at Harry. Of course, there would be rumours about that, but Harry really didn't care at this point. There wasn't a lot the press or the public could really do that would rattle him: he'd been through it before.

"...charges are as follows…"

"What?!" Harry spoke, surprised, "I understood he was to be given Veritaserum before he answers."

"Ah, about that," spoke a woman. A woman Harry loathed to set eyes on ever again. She resembled a large toad. That about summed up the witch's appearance. She spoke with a simpering, girly tone, which made Harry all the more likely to strangle the woman if the chance ever presented itself. Particularly, considering it was that same woman, who, the first time, in the same room, snapped Harry's beloved wand. "Do forgive the confusion," she continued, "But we did hold a vote just before the session began, deciding to exclude that sort of testimony from this hearing. It was determined there was no need."

"There was no need," said Harry, his voice low, "There was no—bloody hell, are you all that daft?"

"Silence!" snapped Fudge, "May I remind you Mr. Potter you are a spectator of these proceedings and nothing further. One more outburst from you and you will be removed from this chamber!"

"But…"

"Harry, it's fine," said Sirius. Harry only glared back at the man who called himself minister for magic. This trial was a farce, he could already see it. They would appear to ask the right questions, then cut him off, just like what had happened with Harry the first time around.

"Continuing, with the charges, then… that before or on October 31, 1981, he did divulge the secret whereabouts of James and Lily Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; that on November 2, 1981, he did kill Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles by blowing up a street in central London; that he was and is participating in a terrorist organisation; and finally that he did manage to escape from Azkaban. All of which constitute violations under the Wizarding Criminal Code, and the International Statute for Wizarding Secrecy.

"You are Sirius Orion Black, of no fixed Address?"

"Yes."

"Did you, on the night of October 31, 1981, or shortly before, divulge the whereabouts of Lily and James Potter to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"No, I did not. It was—"

"He lies!" screeched Fudge.

"Cornelius, if you will keep to the facts here," said a woman beside him, with short greying hair, and a square jaw. 'Madam Bones', Harry remembered.

"Yes, quite right—"

"Members of the Wizengamot," said Sirius, "If you would allow me to properly act in my defence. I do believe I have the right to a proper defence, do I not?"

"Proceed," said Madam Bones.

"The little story your minister seems to be playing by here is exactly that, a story," said Sirius, standing. "The fact is, I never divulged any secret, because it wasn't my secret to give. Lily and James made Peter Pettigrew secret keeper of the Fidelius Charm on their cottage. I would swear it on my magic, but since I do not have a wand, that would be difficult. Next charge…"

"Yes, right," said Fudge, appearing a little rattled. Sirius still stood behind the chair with chains in it—they were clinking angrily. He rested his hands on the back of it, glaring at Fudge. "That the defendant did, on November 2, 1981, murder Peter Pettigrew and twelve Muggles, by blowing up a London street." This was definitely going very badly. Veritaserum would have cleared this up in a snap.

"I deny that charge. I admit I was there, but only to confront Pettigrew on his cowardly act. Peter never came across as someone to commit that kind of treachery—"

"How dare you speak out against an honourable man!" screeched an older witch about three rows up. There was a murmur throughout the spectators.

"Oh, I assure you it's quite true. For the record, Peter Pettigrew is an illegal Animagus, who takes the form of a rat. Additionally, I am offering a 10 thousand galleon reward for the capture of said rat or person. He will be quite easy to find, seeing as he is missing a finger. That translates onto a missing claw on his front left paw." Another murmur, this time a little louder throughout the gallery.

"Silence!" Fudge bellowed, "This will NOT turn into a circus."

"It already has," Harry muttered under his breath.

"As for the next charge, I most certainly do NOT participate in any sort of illegal organization. I am NOT a Death Eater. My bare left forearm, for the record…" Sirius rolled up his left shirt sleeve, revealing a bare forearm. "I will NEVER serve Lord Voldemort in any way, shape, or form." The speaking of the dark lord's name drew a collective gasp from the court room.

"Finally, as to the last charge, that is one that I plead guilty for. However, as I am innocent, it is a farce the fact that I spent twelve years of my adult life in Azkaban in the first place. I again impart on this July body, do realize what kind of precedent you set by the outcome of this hearing."

"Whatever do you mean by that, Mr. Black?" questioned Madam Bones.

"Since when has it become the ministry's policy to send a man to Azkaban without a trial?"

"But that is what we are doing here now, is it not?" the toad simpered. Harry felt like he wanted to gag by her voice alone.

"The better question, is this being done in good faith?" challenged Sirius. That drew another collective gasp from the gallery.

"DO not mock this body, Black!" Fudge snapped, gesturing with his wand. A silencing charm went up, as the membership debated amongst themselves.

"Definitely a farce," said Harry, stepping back up to the seat. Tonks and Shacklebolt also joined them.

"Fudge is railroading the case," said Shacklebolt, "We will see to it there is an 'accident' during transport that will allow your escape."

"Don't worry, we've already got that covered," said Sirius. "Harry, you don't want to be near me when I act. I'd rather you keep your hands clean if possible." Harry nodded, then stepped back to his single seat off to the side, his hand in his pocket, already fingering the small port key. Just then, the silencing charm fell.

"Those in favour of clearing the accused of the charges?" questioned Madam Bones. A few hands went up.

"And those in favour of conviction?" As expected, the majority of hands went up, some a little slower than others. Fudge quickly glanced around, then turned back to face the accused, a predatory glare fixed on his face. "Very good, then, yes, very good. Having been found guilty of this lengthy list of charges, this July body does sentence—"

"I will not set foot in Azkaban ever again!" spoke Sirius, clearly and precisely, then promptly vanished.

"What? Where How—" Fudge sputtered, while the gallery again broke into an uproar. Cries and wails came from it, as people had witnessed Sirius Black escape, yet again.

"SILENCE!" Harry bellowed, his voice ringing about the courtroom, "You bunch of bumbling idiots! I warned you Fudge, before school ended. You do remember the conversation we had in the hospital wing?" The minister looked back at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. "Ah, he DOES remember," said Harry, plopping down in the chair with the chains. The members of the Wizengamot seemed curious at the demeanour of the boy-who-lived. He was after someone's hide. That was plain to see.

"And exactly what does that have to do with this trial, Mr. Potter?" questioned Madam Bones. Harry only nodded, then drew his wand. "I, Harry James Potter, do swear on my magic, that everything I am about to reveal is the truth, and nothing but." A golden swirl of magic lifted from his chest, only to burrow back into it. Forcing a wizard's oath on himself was a tricky business, but it was worth it for the effect.

"A very bold piece of tomfoolry, Mr. Potter," said Fudge, "How is it you are able to play such parlour tricks?" Harry only shook his head, then said, "The night of the third task, I revealed a very important piece of information to you by Bartemius Crouch, Jr. Do you remember what it was, Minister?"

"NO, I do not!" snapped Fudge.

"Most unfortunate that professor Dumbledore wasn't here, nor Madam Pomfrey for that matter. They did hear our conversation—I'll be sure to obtain sworn statements from both of them—but for the record, he did reveal that Peter Pettigrew had been involved with the plot to abduct me from the final task of the Tri-wizard Tournament. I do ask, by the way, when shall Mr. Crouch be facing this body?"

"Err, most unfortunate, actually," spoke Fudge, although Harry could detect a bit of smugness in his tone, "He was—"

"SO help me if you tell me he was kissed—"

"Most unfortunate—"

"Really Cornelius!" Madam Bones sounded outraged. "I assure you, Mr. Potter, we will be launching an investigation into this. I for one, am rather disturbed by these proceedings today."

"So am I, Madam Bones, so am I," declared Harry, "Since this was a waste of your time as much as it was mine, I will take my leave. And minister. You have just made yourself an enemy. I'll not rest until you are removed from office. So mote it be." With that, Harry stormed out of the dungeon.

Harry landed hard on the sitting room floor not long after, and was relieved to find Sirius sitting in one of the high-back chairs, eyes already fixed on him.

"I really thought this was gonna be different," Harry sighed, gaining his feet. "You'll be trapped here, just like the first time—I can't… I won't… C-come with me," Harry decided, "Grab your wand too." He stepped up to the fireplace, took a fistful of floo powder, tossed it into the fire, then spoke, "Harry Potter's trunk!" He vanished into the green flames. Sirius only shrugged, and followed.

He was surprised at the room into which he had stepped. Sure, he was most certainly aware Harry had a trunk with a magical room in it, but this wasn't quite what he expected. It was easily as large as the Gryffindor common room, with several couches, a large drawing table against one wall, doors leading off to a corridor and a dining room, respectively, and a last door that led off to most likely the entry. Old-fashioned gas lamps lit the room, casting a warm glow about the room.

"D'you think you'd be comfortable here?" questioned Harry. He had been waiting near the fireplace.

"You certainly have style, pup. Is this all your work?"

"As of late, yeah… but some of it's Cedric's work, too. Never realized he was right brilliant in Charms." Both looked up, as they heard a door open, then close. "It's all right, there's about seventeen kids here… they're all in bed right now—which is where I should be too."

"So where's your room?"

"Err… this way, but… um, well, it's sort of occupied at the moment."

"My, my, pup, you're not playing both ends of the field, are you?" Sirius ribbed his godson. Harry glared back at him, saying, "Are you out of your mind? Cedric would murder me! The boy's just a friend, see… but he's well… been helping me… although Cedric would be much better at that…" Harry said that more to himself than to Sirius. He then looked up and said, "I'm sorry… I really thought things would be different this time around. I really think fate's got it in for me, or something. No one has this much bad luck."

"I might agree with you on that one, Harry," said Sirius, "Look. Go get some sleep. If you don't mind me using the floo to come and go, I'll pull a few things here from the house."

"Yeah, great. Just… be careful, there's kids here who won't know who you are."

"They know about magic, I take it?"

"Definitely. There's at least one witch, with a couple more that may be witches and wizards as well."

"You will explain how this all came about, I do hope."

"After I get some sleep," Harry promised, "After all, I have a war to plan. Not to mention, I still have business to take care of with a certain demon that likes to possess children, back in… well… whatever dimension was in. I'll need Fawkes to take me back there."

"Go on, get some sleep… you're babbling."

"Right." Harry embraced his godfather, then followed his advice, returning to his room.

He ended up having to move Malachai over to his own side of the bed—the boy had sprawled out across the entire bed. 'Restless sleeper', he thought. Still, just seeing the boy released a little of the tension he felt, as he changed into pyjamas, and again climbed into bed. He then doused the lights, although it was still quite light. Another gesture from his hand, and the window darkened.

"Harry?"

"Yeah… it's me."

"Everything all right?"

"No, not really, but—"

"What happened?"

"It's okay for now… go back to sleep, my friend," said Harry, although the sadness was not lost on Malachai. Whatever happened, it wasn't good.

Meanwhile, Sirius had quickly floo'ed the Diggory household. Cedric had wanted to know if Harry returned, and indeed, the raven-haired boy was back—although still in his trunk.

"Mr. Black! What can I do for you?" It was Cedric's mother.

"'morning, Mrs. Diggory. Might Cedric be around?"

"I'm afraid he's stepped out for a bit."

"All right, if he gets in, let him know he needs to floo into Harry's trunk."

"I'll be sure to let him know." With that, Sirius closed the connection, then pulled out his phone the twins had given him. He turned it on, then spoke, "Cedric"

"'lo?"

"Cedric. It's Sirius. Floo to Harry's trunk, he's back, and I don't know for how long."

"He is?! Great! May I pop over and borrow your floo then?"

"Of course. I'm already in the trunk."

"Then I'll see you shortly." The connection closed.

It took all of ten seconds for Cedric to step out of the grate. He looked around, seeming to appraise the changes, then looked at Sirius. "I heard about the trial on the Wizarding wireless."

"It was a farce, and Harry was spot on. Good thing he gave me a port key. Not that I would have spent long in custody… you know of Tonks and Shacklebolt?"

"'course, Order members."

"They formed part of my 'escort party' today."

"Well, where's Harry?"

"He's gone to sleep for a while."

"Then he'll want me there too—"

"Cedric, wait. He said he has a friend in there and well—"

"When did this happen?" Cedric did not look pleased.

"I don't think that's what's going on, so don't start thinking that—I know where you're going. Harry's an honourable young man."

"Yeah, I guess," the young Hufflepuff agreed, pushing away the dark thoughts. 'If they're touching each other in any shape or form, someone will be castrated,' he vowed to himself. "I'm going to check anyway. He'll be happy to see me."

"Just don't… well, you know."

Cedric wasted no time entering Harry's room. Had he done so without Sirius' warning, he would have went ballistic, for, sure enough, Harry was not alone in the large bed. However, he quickly realized there was nothing going on. His boyfriend lay on one side, and a boy with red hair lay on the other, facing away. No, this was only friendship. He had to smile, looking at Harry, as he slept. It had only been a few days, but it still felt like an eternity. He wasted no time, stripping down to his boxers, and slipping into bed, careful not to disturb the third party on the opposite side. Harry was very receptive to this extra body, and wasted no time becoming entangled with him, although he was clearly dead to the world.

Harry awoke sometime later, to see his father once again smirking from his portrait. "Prongslet the stud," he snickered.

"Shut it, dad," said Harry, trying to extricate himself from his boyfriend, who seemed in no hurry to surrender, even in his deep sleep. Hadn't it been the middle of the morning? It was the middle of the night when we left Gatlin, wasn't it? 1 am? 7 am here then. Bloody time differences… He finally gave up trying to get out of bed, but resigned himself to enjoy being so close to his boyfriend. He made a decision on the spot: Cedric, too, would be going back to Gatlin with him. Besides, a third wand would be more than helpful in dealing with Isaac and his sheeple. Hmmmm… Sheeple… a perfect description for the Ministry of Magic, Harry mused.

"So what happened with Sirius?" questioned James, "Did he get off?"

"No," answered Harry, his mood abruptly turning dark, "The fucking useless brain-dead asshat of a minister conducted a farce, that's what happened!"

"Harry?" questioned Cedric, sleepily. That was echoed on the other side of the bed.

"Err, guys…" Harry said uneasily, but he was too late. His boyfriend spun around, while Malachai looked up in shock. "Who the hell are you?!"

"I might ask the same!"

"GUYS!!" Harry shouted, getting both teens' attention. Last thing he needed was for someone to get cursed or cut—he knew Malachai kept his knife within reach when he slept, after all. "Right. Malachai, this is my boyfriend, Cedric. Cedric, this is a new close friend of mine, Malachai."

"Err… well… pleasure," said Cedric, offering a hand. Malachai shook it. "Same."

"Sorry about the confusion," said Cedric, "I mean, I knew Harry would want to see me sooner than later and…"

"No it's all right," said Malachai, "I should have expected, well—Harry has told me a bit about you already. Will you be staying around?"

"My question too," said Harry, "We need to go back to Gatlin, probably in the next hour or so. I'm kind of hoping you'll come along."

"How can I say no? Harry, I've been going half-spare in the three, going on four days you've been gone. I'll leave my phone with mum and dad, so they can keep in touch… and I'll need a few things from the house."

"Great, then let's get up." The two of them kissed deeply, then separated, with Harry making a quick trek to the bathroom, and Cedric quickly dressing.

"How has he been… I mean, in your world?" questioned Cedric.

"He dreams about evil things," answered Malachai, "Most disturbing nightmares."

"The life he's had, it's just a by-product, I guess. He's had to deal with things fully grown adults might have issue with. Thank you for looking out for him."

"I will continue to do so when he needs it," said Malachai, perhaps with a little more edge than he had meant, for Cedric arched an eyebrow. "You care for him?"

"I… I guess I do." The red head looked down at the floor.

"NO, that's good," said Cedric, clapping the other boy on the back, "You see, Harry's not had much of that in his life, people that truly care for him. Just remember, 'I' am his boyfriend, and well…"

"I understand that… God, I mean, I don't play that way, if you—"

"Right. Straight as an arrow, got it," Cedric grinned, and watched Malachai blush quite profusely. Exactly as he'd seen happen with Ron a few times. "Look. If he wants you to stay with us, it's fine by me too… just beware of, well… you know."

"Right." The boy's face got a little redder, almost matching his hair.

"He gets any redder, and he might pass for a lobster," James piped up.

"Err… right," said Cedric, just as Harry stepped back into the room. "What's wrong with him?"

"Never mind," said Malachai, making a hasty exit. Cedric burst out laughing.

"Cedric… what did you do to him?"

"Just a little grilling about the, ahem, sleeping arrangement between you two. Made it clear he's still welcome—not that I wouldn't mind, err… you know—"

"Cedric!" Harry gasped, scandalized.

By the time Cedric had collected what he needed from home, it was the middle of the lunch hour. Harry had wanted to get everything finalized and returned to Gatlin before the children were up, so the newcomers could be settled and so on, and questions be answered once, and only once.

At long last, Harry apparated out of the trunk and back into Sirius' bedroom, the trunk's location, not realizing that, at the same time, a pair of red-headed twins had just floo'ed into said trunk. "Fawkes?" The magical bird appeared an instant later. "Can you get me back to Gatlin?" The bird presented its tail feathers, and they vanished.

The service station was exactly as he had found it, dimly lit by the advancing dawn. Unsettling, however, was the fact the light had vanished from the clearing. Of course, he realized, when he vanished, the anchor for the magic vanished, cancelling the ritual and its magic. Would it be worth repeating? His attention turned to another group of children, sitting in the driveway, waiting. 7 of them this time. Harry quickly checked them over, removed the enchantments as before, then brought the latest group into the trunk.

"Harry!"

"We heard you were back!"

"Err… where did they come from?"

"Fred! George! What are you doing here? Shit!" Harry cursed, then covered his mouth as a couple of the younger kids giggled. 'Okay, this was most definitely not planned, no, not at all.' "Malachai! Cedric!" The aforementioned boys appeared a few seconds later.

"Can you guys take care of these guys? Err, Cedric, Malachai will explain, I guess. Fred, George, come into the dining room for now. There's been a small mix up."

"A small mix up?"

"In what way?" questioned George.

"Well… we're not at Grimmauld Place anymore. I just had Fawkes return us to… to the other dimension I was in."

"Blimey!"

"Grand prank, Harry!" said Fred.

"It's great you're here, but… well—"

"It sounds like our honorary brother doesn't want us here," Fred lamented.

"Indeed, he wounds us," George sighed.

"No, guys, it's not that… it's just… oh bloody fuck, Molly's gonna kill me!"

"You know, Harry—Oh… Fred and George… didn't think you would be joining us," said Sirius, appearing from the kitchen, Kreacher following closely.

"Neither did we," said George, "But since we're here…"

"We'll have to make more changes to the trunk," decided Harry, "The dorm upstairs already has to be enlarged, with seven more kids rescued from… well, I still don't know what it is, honestly. It's definitely demonic, I spoke with it for a while yesterday."

"Harry, you are being careful, I hope," said Sirius, "Evil such as that should never be taken lightly."

"I know, because I've done it before," answered Harry, getting a questioning look from both twins.

"Anyway… there's a kid named Isaac… he's acting as some sort of boy-preacher. He's got about, well, 35 kids now enthralled, believing he can talk to god. Except that this 'god' is actually a demon. The kids murdered every adult in Gatlin, and kill any outsider that comes in."

"That sounds like a Muggle cult group," said Sirius, "I forget exactly where I saw that, but the article described some truly frightening cult-like organizations, which made its members do bizarre things."

"How many of them are controlled by a demon, though?"

"It may be a better course of action to notify the Ministry of Magic here, they would be better apt to handle something this serious. As noble as your crusade may be, you could end up doing far more harm than good. I'm sure you don't want to see someone get hurt."

"No, and that's exactly why I do it. Try and save as many of them as I can, before—so far, there are four 18 year old kids here. Do you know what happens when they turn 19? They kill themselves. No one is allowed to become an adult. It has to be well… I mean, this might pale in comparison to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, but it doesn't make it any less hideous. Besides, helping here is the right thing to do."

"If only the Daily Prophet could hear that, Harry," said Sirius, "I have a suspicion they wouldn't print half the lies they do about you."

"What sort of lies?"

"They claim you're disturbed, half out of your mind, like Dumbledore. You might be wondering why he wasn't there at my trial today. He was tied up with the ICW, that according to Arthur. They are thinking of dismissing him because of the rumours flying around about him."

"Ah, of course," Harry snorted, "When I'm through with Fudge—let's just say he won't be welcome in many places… he'll be better off leaving the country. As I learned the first time around, the bastard is only in it for himself… anyone figure out what house he was in when he attended Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin most likely," said Sirius, "Not that it's been confirmed. Dumbledore would likely know."

"What do you mean, the 'first time around'?" questioned George. Harry sighed, realizing he'd let his secret slip again. Not good.

The next hour was wasted, as Harry again explained his trip through the veil, after securing a wizard's oath from both twins. At the rate he was going, the whole school would know about it!

By the same token, however, that meant there were now four wizards in the trunk not including himself. Four very capable wizards, at that. Putting aside all the pranks and good natured fun, the twins could be a force to reckon with—he remembered their teamwork the first time around against Death Eaters. They were downright dangerous.

"Fred, George, good to see you again," said Cedric, pulling up a seat at the table, with Malachai right behind. Both twins took a long look at the new red head as he also took a seat, and grinned madly. "You must be a long lost cousin," George piped up.

"Sorry?"

"I'm Fred…"

"And I'm George," the twins introduced themselves.

"Malachai."

"Err, interesting name," Fred commented, as the three of them studied each other. Harry, however, had other ideas. "All right, guys. The newcomers are all settled?"

"For now, but there has to be some changes. One bathroom will never do for this many people," said Cedric, "And unless you want the kids to start sharing beds, you'll need to add to your dormitory upstairs—nice work on that, by the way."

"Thanks. It will do in a pinch. Sirius, Cedric, would you guys mind working on the dormitory? Expand it to suit, conjure up a few more beds and so on."

"We'll get right on it," said Sirius, with Cedric nodding.

"You two," said Harry, gesturing to the twins, "I need a new addition, probably add stairs going down… you guys know how to do that?"

"Of course!"

"He doubts us! Merlin, the boy has little faith…" said George, feigning injury. That got a smirk out of Malachai.

"Guys… Oh, and Malachai… I should warn you, whatever you do… do NOT accept anything edible from these two… actually don't accept ANYTHING from them—unless you don't value the colour of your hair, skin, or yommmmph…" Fred clamped a hand over Harry's mouth. "Our business partner insults us!"

"Outrageous!" Both twins again acted as though his words were mortal wounds, but Malachai could see it was all tongue in cheek.

"But it's true!" Harry blurted, finding his mouth uncovered. Fred once again silenced him, saying, "Don't believe a word of it, we're honest businessmen!"

"Honest, yeah, honest businessmen," George reinforced. That had Sirius snickering along with Cedric.

"What sort of business?" questioned Malachai, as he also found the twins' banter amusing. Only a few days earlier, he would have found such banter nonsensical, a waste of time.

"Well, Cedric and Harry gave us a bag full of money at the end of school, which we've been using to start up a joke shop. We won't actually get a storefront until next year, once we finish our NEWTs."

"But we've been experimenting like mad," George continued, "Drives mum into a right twist, but it'll be worth it in the end."

"Right, anyway," said Harry, dragging the conversation back on track, "Later on, we'll also need to expand this room too. And we'll need to restock the food stores—I won't leave that all up to Kreacher, he's having enough work to do as it is."

"How is he getting on here?" questioned Sirius.

"He's amazing. You probably won't even recognize him," said Harry, grinning madly, "Speak of the devil…"

"Kreacher is bringing snacks, growing boys need to eat, they do!" the elf placed a large platter of cookies and other snacks on the table, along with a jug of pumpkin juice. He disappeared back into the kitchen, returning with a second tray containing a tea service.

Sirius watched in shock, as the elf went about his business. "Harry, it's a good thing you left Dobby and Winky at the house… I have a suspicion I won't be getting Kreacher back."

"It's in the way you treat him, Sirius. Your brother was kind to him, and he latched onto him, just like he's latched onto me. Try it, you'll see what I mean."

"I s'ppose you're right," Sirius admitted, "I never did get along well with him. It didn't help when I ran off, either."

"Just try to be nice. He'll appreciate that."

The group fell to silence for a few minutes as they had the afternoon snack Kreacher had provided.

"Harry… I notice you gave us all assignments… but what are you up to?" questioned George.

"I have another date with the cult group upstairs," answered Harry, "Gonna try and sway a few more into breaking away."

"Remember what I said," warned Sirius. Harry only nodded, but said, "I know what I'm doing. Coming with?" he gestured to Malachai, as he finished his tea. The boy nodded, and stood up.

"We'll be back shortly," said Harry, as Malachai gripped him by the arm. They both popped away in a cloud of black smoke.

"Bloody hell!" both twins chorused. Even Sirius was unnerved at the method by which Harry and his new friend disapparated—his hand had moved toward his wand for a fraction of an instant.

"Where the hell did he learn that from?" Cedric was equally disturbed.

"Seems there's more to Harry's adventures in the future than he's letting on," spoke George, uncomfortably.

"I could have sworn a Death Eater just disapparated from here a moment ago," his twin added, looking rather pale. There were nods around the table. They were not seeing a memory of a moment ago at this point… all but one were experiencing a memory of just over a year prior, during the World Cup of Quidditch. Most unnerving, that Harry knew how to duplicate the effect. The question was, was it just duplication, or for real?

Isaac silently cursed to himself, seeing the black rocket of smoke streaking toward the clearing. The children were again gathered for the afternoon meeting, and it was about to be interrupted. The cloud of smoke touched the ground, and dissipated, revealing Harry and Malachai.

"Good afternoon," Harry greeted, cheerily, "Nice day for a meeting, isn't it?"

"What do you want, wizard?" demanded a boy with long, stringy black hair, who sat at the back of the gathering.

"You have a new lieutenant," said Malachai, "Beware of your position, Benjamin, it has been tainted."

"By your treachery, Malachai!" hissed the boy, Benjamin, "Your blood has been tainted by your evil thoughts, you shall be punished for it!"

"It is as he commands!" shouted another boy.

"It is you whose soul has been horribly tainted," Harry retorted, "I said it once, I'll say it again. you have all been horribly marked and horribly used. I offer a way out. You know where I wait."

"Harry, we do not need to visit these meetings," spoke Malachai, "We can visit them in the night while they sleep."

"My friend, you are truly evil," said Harry, with a feral grin. The children looked momentarily terrified. "How will he who walks behind the rows protect you, when I cannot be seen?" he gestured to himself, seeming to fade out of sight. Of course, they could still barely see his outline, as it distorted the light. Still, it had the effect they had wanted, and even Isaac looked unnerved. He had remained silent up to this point, although he looked like he was about ready to explode in rage.

"Your god does not exist as you expect it to," Harry continued, "It only wishes to exploit you, then turn your souls aside when it's finished with you. Is that what you want, for your lives to be a waste?"

"No, not waste," spoke a seven-year-old boy, "We go to him willingly. We help the corn grow when it is time." The boy carried a blissful look on his face.

"See, wizard?! Your blasphemous words have no effect here! Be gone from this place!" Benjamin bellowed, seeming about ready to leap to his feet.

"You have slandered and besmirched this sacred place for the LAST time, outlander!" roared another voice. Harry spun to see a heavy-built boy barrelling toward him. However, it was not the face of a boy he saw. Instead, he saw beady eyes, crooked front teeth, balding head, and an intense fire of hatred. The same face he had seen the first time around in the grave yard… Peter Pettigrew—the man he had vowed to kill-on-sight the next time they met. He acted before he thought.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Malachai could only watch, as the scene seemed to play out in slow motion. Harry's wand was in his hand, it was raised, and the terrible words shouted loud enough to be heard for miles—at least so it seemed. The blast of green magic erupting from the wand, to connect with the eighteen-year-old boy, the thud, as the body collapsed mid-stride, like a puppet that had its strings cut. And then… a terrible, searing pain wracked his body, most prominently around his heart… as if someone were trying to tear it from his chest while it was still beating. He actually staggered with the pain.

Isaac, too, watched the horrible scene unfold, he too, now absolutely terrified at the display. This wizard had just killed with magic. There was no knife, such as Malachai had once so willingly used. Just a screech to the wind, and an angry blast of magic cut down the boy in an instant. Daniel probably didn't even realize what had happened to him. He was crumpled on the ground, eyes staring unblinkingly at his killer, his face still contorted in an angry scowl.

Harry stared horrified at what he had just done, his hand shakily lowering his wand.

"What have I done?" he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. The children in the clearing ware all staring at him and Malachai, abject terror in their eyes.

"Harry…"

"YOU SEE?!! THEY ARE EXACTLY AS I HAVE WARNED YOU!" Isaac jeered, proclaiming, "They are the devil's spawn, they will kill you quick as look at you! Heed not their words, for it is poison, but turn to the words of our Lord! He will protect us against the sorcerers, and punish them for their deeds!!"

"Praise God!" shouted the children, all staring at the wizard and his friend. Harry only turned slowly, gripping Malachai about the shoulder, and they vanished with an angry CRACK. Oddly, a lock of messy black hair remained suspended in the air for a moment, before fluttering to the ground.

"Tonight, Benjamin," spoke Isaac, "You shall take a group, and attend the service station. Put fire to it, so we shall be rid of the wizard and the traitor. The Lord commands it so."

"Praise the Lord!" shouted Benjamin, leaping to his feet, brandishing an elongated billhook.(1)

"Praise God!" the followers chanted loudly, also leaping to their feet, "Praise the Lord!" Isaac smirked to himself, watching his flock galvanize behind his new lieutenant. The wizard's actions had perhaps the best effect on them he could ever have hoped for, although most unfortunate it had resulted in the death of Daniel. There would be no more defections… he could see it in their eyes. As for Daniel, his body would be offered to the Lord in honour. He had died in honour, the Lord would accept his blood like that of the others who offered themselves as they came of age.

Harry slumped into Malachai's side when they appeared in the trunk, his wand clattering to the floor.

"Harry… you're missing a clump of hair," Malachai noticed, also quite shaken, but Harry didn't seem to care.

"What happened?"

"Harry, um—"

"I KILLED SOMEONE, THAT'S WHAT I BLOODY DID!" Harry snapped, his voice cracking like a whip. Several doors were heard opening, but Malachai put a stop to it. "Back in your rooms and stay there!"

"Harry, what happened?" the twins had still not started their assignment, they had still been talking with Sirius and Cedric.

"I… he… Pettigrew… I thought… killing curse… oh god, oh god…"

"Harry, come on," said Malachai, reaching out a hand. Harry swiped it away, shouting, "NO, leave me alone! Just leave me the hell alone!" Angry waves of energy were pouring off the boy, making it uncomfortable for Malachai to be near him.

"Cedric, help me," he spoke. The Hufflepuff nodded, and knelt to be beside his boyfriend. "Harry. Look at me." But Harry refused. So, Cedric reached down and gently cupped the boy's chin, raising his face up so they met. His cheeks were streaked with tear tracks, his eyes glimmering as fresh ones formed. More so, was the image of hopelessness that dwelled behind the tears. "Malachai… help me bring Harry to our room."

Between the two of them, Cedric and Malachai carried Harry back to his room, then lay him gently on the bed. Kreacher was not far after, pattering over to the cabinet, and retrieving a calming draught, and a mild sleeping potion.

"One… for me as well, if you please," said Malachai. Only then did he realize he was shaking like a leaf.

"Harry, I warned you—"

"Sirius, please not now," said Cedric, "Last thing he needs, I think." Kreacher was then at the bed, and passed both Cedric and Malachai the requested potions. Malachai consumed his calming draught, while Cedric helped Harry to take his, as well as the sleeping potion. Fred and George had come to look in as well at this point, as had Seth. The commotion had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the kids.

"Fred and George. Don't you guys have work to do?" questioned Cedric. The twins only nodded, and slinked away from the door.

"Seth. Make sure the rest of the children stay out of trouble," said Malachai, "I will be attending to Harry for the next while." Seth nodded, and also left the doorway.

"I want to know exactly what happened up there, Malachai," demanded Sirius.

"Harry killed someone with magic," answered the ginger-haired teen, sitting down on his side of the bed. "A boy charged at us, and Harry reacted. A green bolt of magic, and the boy fell to the ground dead."

"Merlin! He's cast the killing curse!" Sirius was horrified. Cedric, too, looked horrified. Sure, Harry had told them about the nightmarish future world he came from, where it had been necessary to cast the unforgivable curses. Yet, here and now? Then there was the case of him being able to imitate the apparition methods of a Death Eater. Had Harry truly turned dark?

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So, has Harry at last gone 'round the twist? Or worse off, has he turned dark? You'll have to wait and see now… I'd been cooking up that scene for a while, although my original thought was for Isaac to be the target. Of course, I couldn't justify that. But to have a boy come at Harry, baring some resemblance to Pettigrew? That was too easy. _

_Now. I'm sure there will be people that will gripe at me for having Harry cast unforgivable curses. However, I am drawing from canon. Harry did use the Cruciatus (although failing) against Belletrix Lestrange in OotP. I also cite the incident in DH, where Harry reacts poorly to Amycus Carrow spitting in McGonagall's face. So, yes, Harry is most capable of casting unforgivables._

_Anyway, as always, love to hear feedback and thoughts on the chapter or the story in general._

_(1) strongly influenced by the scene from movie canon, where Malachai does this, rallying the other children. A most disturbing scene._


	11. Fire in the Cornfield

_Shout-outs to __to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Coarse language__, violence._

_Fallout from Harry's use of the killing curse; __Harry and Malachai have a final confrontation with Isaac and the Children of the Corn._

_

* * *

  
_

**11:FIRE IN THE CORN FIELD  
Or, why aurors come calling in gatlin**

Harry finally woke up again sometime later, to voices talking in low tones. He became aware Cedric was pressed up against him, but there were others around as well.

"…really concerned, though. He shouldn't be able to do that." 'Sirius,' thought Harry, although he still hadn't opened his eyes.

"He had to learn it from somewhere," said Cedric, "Given what he's told us, I guess we shouldn't be surprised."

"But, casting the killing curse? Against another child of all things?" spoke Lily, equally concerned. Of course, Harry was concerned at what he had done. He would rescue no one else from the clutches of the demon. His actions had damned any possibility of that now—they saw HIM as the demon. He rolled onto his side, and bumped into a second body that lay beside him. His smell gave him away again. 'Malachai, of course'. They boy cared for Harry a great deal, and he had to wonder, would that one day match that of Cedric? He was partly amused by that implication—until the incident of earlier once again come crashing around his ears.

"If the ministry finds out any of this, they'll lock him away in Azkaban." Sirius was gravely concerned.

"But no one will hear of this. We have agreement on that?" Harry had heard Malachai use that tone before. Silence from the others meant the 'suggestion' had been well received. "I have done many evil things myself, yet, it paled in what I saw this afternoon."

"And it would," said Harry, finally opening his eyes to face the boy. "I'm sorry… sorry you had to see that." He reached over and gripped his shoulder.

"Harry, what in blazes were you thinking?!" Sirius burst, "You of all people!"

"Against another boy, nonetheless!" Lily added. She too, was upset.

"Guys! Look, it's not like I MEANT to!" Harry shouted, "The boy came at me, I mistook him for Pettigrew—"

"The one who betrayed your parents?" questioned Malachai. Harry nodded, saying, "Yes. I will kill him on sight," he answered, icily, "No mercy, no begging, no duels, just death. None of you have any idea of how terrible that man was in the future. The sooner he's dead the better."

"Harry, you just can't make that kind of mistake, though. Gods, if the ministry gets any wind of what you've done…"

"Mum, I know! My soul's already been tainted many times over, but it doesn't lessen what it feels like… to do that… to kill someone that way."

"It felt like… my heart was being ripped from my chest while it still beat," said Malachai.

"You felt it, then. The tearing of the soul."

"Did it… take—"

"A piece of yours? No. You only felt the effect."

"How is he able to share something like that?" questioned Cedric, who had moved to make up the gap that had opened between himself and Harry. Not realizing it, the three boys were then pressed against each other.

"I gave him some of my blood," explained Harry, "He would have died otherwise."

"A blood replenishing potion—"

"Would have done nothing," spoke Lily, "He's a Muggle, Sirius."

"You magically donated blood?" Sirius looked impressed. Harry nodded, saying, "Like I said to him, it was the right thing to do."

"Yes, yet you murdered a boy today," spoke Lily, uncomfortably.

"Mum, if I could take it back, undo it, I would in a heartbeat. It near killed me when I realized what I'd done. I can see it. You all think I've turned dark. Well, what do you think happened? I've faced nightmares most of you can only DREAM of. I've had to cast the killing curse more times than I can count… a case of me or them, right?

"At the end of the war, or shortly before, I HAD to. It was the only way to survive. The first curse had to count."

"Harry, there's always—"

"NO! you can't understand until you've lived it," Harry shot back, "You've told me somewhat about the first Wizarding war, Sirius, but this… this was different. There was nothing left of the world, wizard or Muggle. It was the apocalypse, the best way to describe it. Diagon Alley… destroyed, along with most of London. The Ministry of Magic was practically destroyed, with only the lowest sections still the least bit intact. Hogwarts still stood, although it suffered heavy damage. It changed hands a dozen times—last I remember, Voldemort controlled it. Does that paint a better picture?"

Sirius, Cedric, and his parents all had no words, as Harry's hit home. This was most definitely a dark future Harry had come from. It was beyond anything they could have imagined.

"Harry… when you and Malachai disapparated earlier… it looked like a Death Eater. Where did you learn how to do that?" questioned Sirius, still uneasy.

"One night, Ron, Hermione, and I were cornered by a group of them. Well, we managed to kill or chase off all of them, and stun another. Most of them by this time were pretty strong mentally, but this guy was weak, probably a new recruit. I blasted into his mind and plucked out a few Death Eater secrets… such as how to make the nifty smoke effect, and how to cast the Dark Mark."

"Cast the dark mark? That's unnerving, Harry."

"But… you are no better than they are, casting unforgivables!" said Lily, gravely concerned. Harry only glared, saying, "I do what has to be done. Better to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban, than to let Voldemort or his Death Eaters do as they did the first time around. I'll do what it takes to make sure the future is brighter this time around.

"What happened this afternoon… it was a terrible mistake, and it hurts all the more. But it's very easy for me to slip into a war mentality when threatened… and I swear I saw Pettigrew's face for a second, and that's all it took. He escaped at least six times because I hesitated."

"But killing them?" questioned Cedric, "You make yourself to be no better than they are." That got another glare from his boyfriend. "The first time around, Remus pointed out to me that I should not be falling back on simple disarming spells when the other side is aiming to kill. I took his words to heart. I make my curses count. Now I think we've wasted enough time here this afternoon crying a pity pool about something that can't be undone."

Even with Harry's words, it still did little to erase the sour mood that descended on the wizards in the trunk. The incident had more than demonstrated this truly was a different Harry Potter than they remembered from just a few weeks prior. He was a boy in appearance only. A hardened warrior lay under the skin, one whose childhood had long ago been ripped from him.

Supper proved to be a noisy affair, with now nearly 25 individuals seated at the tables. Kreacher seemed to be buzzing around like a large bee, almost squealing in delight as he was kept hopping.

Discussion then turned to the kids now staying in the trunk.

"What do you plan on doing with the kids, Harry?" questioned Sirius.

"Well, there are at least 6 of them who are 18. So they're adults, at least by our laws. I had intended on recovering some text books from their school, but… certain things happened today that put an abrupt end to it. They're all orphaned, but… they know each other, and I think it would be better if they're kept together.

"I'll need to have a mind healer come in eventually. Each of them has done some truly horrible things—not that it's their fault, but…"

"That will still leave nasty mental scars," Sirius finished.

"Yeah, exactly. At a minimum, they have all killed the adult members of their families. Many have gone beyond that. I wouldn't get the Muggle authorities involved—they would have no clue about the reason behind any of this… some of them would end up in custody, facing charges. That wouldn't be fair."

"But living in a trunk? What kind of existence will that be for a child? Harry, you do have to think realistically here," said Cedric.

"You do remember some of the things we did in the Room of Requirement last year, right?" Harry reminded. That had Cedric turning a light shade of red, and Malachai snickering.

"My, my, pup. I do have to wonder, considering that was before you… err… returned from 2006."

"Padfoot. None. Of. Your. Business," spoke Harry, although he smirked as he said it.

"Aw, come on, I'm sure Witch Weekly would love an exclusive," Sirius sniggered, "The boy who loved…" More snickers from the table.

"Right. Anyway. Back to a more important topic than my love life. I have notes on how to create a Room of Requirement. Sometime in the next couple of days, I'm going to try it."

"Something else we need to consider," said Sirius, "Although Kreacher seems happy with this many people, it's really not good for a single elf to be doing the work."

"Then I might need to pull either Dobby or Winky here as well. The other can handle Grimmauld Place?"

"Easily, as I'm sure Molly will like to have the kitchen back," said Sirius.

"Something that confuses me, thinking of Grimmauld Place. I tried to floo there when I realized what had happened to me. Any ideas why it doesn't work?"

"My guess is an ambiguous connection," said Sirius, "If the address exists here, the floo network can't sort out which one you mean."

"So, if there was a floo address that was unique back in our own world… we would be able to get back to it?"

"In theory. But ONLY in theory, Harry. Even I don't fully understand the intricacies of the floo network."

"So… it would be like two places having the same phone number in the same area code," Malachai summed it up.

"Exactly," said Harry, understanding perfectly, "Although I doubt the Muggle phone system would ever let that happen. Either way, we have to find a way to solve the confusion in case… well… in case this 'different dimension' thing happens again. Say, Fred and George, how would you like to make an extra thousand Galleons?" Both twins perked up.

Supper over with, Harry returned to his bedroom. By the looks of it, there would be 3 of them sharing the room, so he decided they should have their own bathroom. Nothing over extravagant, but something half-decent—the typical tub and shower, two sinks, and a toilet. He built the room to be a reasonable size, so that two people could share the space without being crowded. Harry was tempted to make a fancy tub, perhaps a smaller version of the one in the Prefect's bath back at Hogwarts, but decided against it. Oversize, though, he did make it. A nice, hot soak did wonders for the body, after all. Never mind the wonderful things he might try with Cedric… he felt his face get rather warm, just thinking about that.

A ping off the wards drew Harry out of his task. He had hardly noticed, but dusk had fell, the room being lit by lamps, like the rest of the trunk. Someone was trying to do something to the trunk. But they should have been kept away by the Muggle-repelling ward… 'Shit', he cursed, he hadn't erected one when they arrived back from London. The cursed children could get their hands on the trunk easily. They would never be able to cart off with it, but they could do other things. The very subtle smell of smoke alerted him to EXACTLY what they were doing.

"Sirius! Fred, George! Cedric! Common room right away!" Harry shouted, sprinting out of the room. He came to a stop in the common room, where Cedric and Malachai were coming out of the dining room. Fred and George were coming up the stairs from below—the area they had been working on. Moments later, Sirius appeared from the dining room as well.

"What's going on?" he asked, then said, "I smell smoke."

"The fuckers set fire to the trunk, come on! Grab on to my arm, wands out!"

Appearing outside the service station, the 4 wizards found the building completely engulfed in flames. "Aguamenti!" Harry shouted, wand directed at the fire. A gush of water erupted from the end of it. The others caught on as well, using it to blast a hole in the fire. "Accio trunk!" Harry shouted, summoning the trunk from the building. It had just started to burn. "Aguamenti!" He cried again, dousing it with water.

"Leave the building to burn. We'll find somewhere else to hide the trunk," Harry decided.

"Outlanders! Be gone from here!" It was Benjamin, glaring at the group from the edge of the corn. "You have defiled us for the last time!"

"I assure you, friend, you don't wish to meddle with us," Sirius warned, taking in the speaker. He could see there were others, standing at the edge of the corn field, about 20 yards from the now raging inferno that had been the service station.

"We aren't quite done here yet," answered Harry, "I will release all of you from this demon that you call your god." He turned to Cedric. "Go back into the trunk and bring Malachai. I need his suggestion where to put the trunk for now." Cedric nodded, and popped away.

Benjamin made a move to advance on the group, but was instantly nailed with two stunners courtesy the twins. "Anyone else want to chance it?" questioned Harry, "Get back to your fearless leader, and take that with you." He gestured to the stunned boy. At that instant, Cedric reappeared, along with Malachai.

"We have a small problem," said Harry, gesturing to the burning service station. "Got any suggestions where we might put the trunk for the next day or so?"

"The top of the municipal building," the red head suggested, "You are able to block doors, are you not?" Harry nodded, then said, "Show it to me. As you did with the house."

Less than a minute later, the six of them stood on the roof of the Gatlin Municipal building. The roof was cluttered, but it wasn't so much the space they needed; only a place to hide the trunk. Harry at once magically sealed the door that led inside the building, then returned the trunk to its original size.

While Fred and George provided light from their wands, Harry was able to inspect the damage to the trunk. Only a bit of scorching on one side. It had been a close call.

"I knew we forgot something. Unbreakable and fireproofing charms," said Harry.

"If it had truly burned, what would have happened to us?" questioned Malachai.

"Death," answered Sirius, gravely, "The expanded space would have collapsed, quite spectacularly."

"We would have been instantly crushed to death," Harry clarified. "Don't worry, it won't happen now," as he gestured with his wand, causing the trunk to glow. Then, a second charm was cast.

"They have moved to the Municipal building," reported a 14 year old boy, as he stepped back into the torch-lit clearing, "I seen lights atop the building just now."

"We must eliminate the traitor, he knows too much of our secrets," spoke a girl of 15 who had been with Benjamin not long before. The boy in question had been taken to one of the houses, still stunned.

"Benjamin must awaken before we take steps," Isaac decided, "But you are indeed right, child."

The following morning, Sarah Gilman was drawing again. Her picture depicted a rather confusing scene. A red-haired boy lay crumpled on the ground, bloodied, with a black-haired boy, sitting beside him, hand directed at the night sky. A skull hung in the sky, with a snake pouring from its mouth; the corn field was ablaze with fire.

A good portion of the day was spent by the wizards collecting books from the school in town. A few of the children were brought along, so they could select the text books and other school items that would be helpful. Harry also managed to pull a few other items from the building.

While this went on, Benjamin and a group of older boys watched from a nearby roof. Why were they raiding the school? Then it dawned on the new enforcer: the wizard was teaching the children he had captured. A pain of regret briefly crossed his mind. Benjamin had loved school—until 3 years ago. He stubbornly pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task ahead.

The boys had already attempted to gain access to the Municipal building's roof. Like their attempted assault on the Gilman house, the door was stuck and would not budge against anything the boys threw at it. The wizard had used magic on it, Benjamin assumed.

There was, however, another way onto the roof: the fire escape at the side of the building. They would need to locate another ladder, since the fire escape only went up to the second floor, not onto the roof. Three others were off hunting for one.

By late afternoon, they had procured said ladder. It was carried up the fire escape, then rested against the wall. The group of 6 boys and 2 girls scrambled up, and over the threshold, to stand on the roof. Benjamin sneered, then they took cover. An opportunity would present itself, he was sure of it. Isaac had issued new instructions: both the wizard and the traitor were to be taken alive—their souls would be cleansed and their bodies offered to He who walks behind the rows.

"Harry… would it be possible for us to go flying?" questioned Malachai. Supper was just about over, with most of the kids already having left the table. It in some ways reminded Harry of the great hall at Hogwarts, as the wizards sat at a head table, with three tables going perpendicular to it. The only thing missing was the charmed ceiling.

"Yeah, great idea. After this past 24 hours, flying will do me some good."

"You've flown your broom here?" Sirius was surprised.

"Of course! Scared the daylights out of the little monsters, but I really don't care. They envisioned witchcraft being evil, I just played it up a bit."

"Careful doing that, Harry. Statute of Secrecy, remember," warned Sirius. Harry only nodded, but said, "I've violated the statute too many times to count while here. What's one more? I mean, it doesn't seem the council of magic in this area has any interest here anyway…"

"It doesn't do to push your luck," said Cedric. He paused, then said, "I'll come up and join you in a bit, it so happens I did bring my own broom, after all."

"When you do… would you mind loaning it… so that we… err…" questioned Harry, but Cedric only nodded enthusiastically. "Great. Let's be off then."

After stopping in the bedroom to retrieve his Firebolt, he grabbed Malachai's arm, and they disapparated from the trunk, to reappear outside, on the roof. Too slow to react, he felt the sharp, jarring pain, as something metal came into contact with the back of his head. Just before his world went dark, he realized he had made a fatal mistake: in his haste to go flying, he had forgotten to consult the map.

Sometime later, Harry slowly began to regain consciousness. He could hear people speaking, but could not make out what was actually being said. It was as if he were under water. It was an immediate indicator he most likely had a concussion. He'd suffered several of those in a distant future. The voices were still dulled, but then, the air was pierced by a horrible scream. The voices continued, becoming a little more clear, although muffled.

"Do you see?" a voice was saying, "The lord shall be both vengeful and merciful." Another horrible cry, the sound of something metal striking flesh.

"Yet, the lord will accept your body, for it will be cleansed through pain, Malachai."

Harry's body almost stiffened, his mind seized up, and he almost gave himself away. He was torturing them! Another horrible cry came from his friend, instantly following a slicing sound.

"You should never have betrayed us," Isaac continued, "He will take each betrayal from you through pain…" Another crunch, as metal contacted flesh, and another horrible cry, making Harry wince mentally. 'Find your centre, Potter,' spoke his inner voice. 'Ready for battle. What spells do you need to call on? Ready your mind.' Warding spell… shield charm… disarming spell… something for a distraction?

Harry sat up abruptly, opening his eyes. His vision was blurry without his glasses, but he could make out shapes easily enough. The collective gasp told him he had been noticed, but he reacted swiftly. He thrust a hand into the air, and cried out to the night, "Morsmordre!!!!" A hand thrust toward the edge of the clearing: "INCENDIO!" To the opposite side, he repeated it, the gathered children all gaping in shock. 'Perhaps we should have started with the wizard,' thought Benjamin, turning his weapon toward Harry, who was muttering another incantation.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" The billhook went flying into the burning corn. "Anyone else want to try me?! Accio Glasses!!!" His hand outstretched. At the same time, the sky had begun to cloud over rapidly, taking on a dark, foreboding feel to it. Harry's glasses finally smacked into his hand, and he slid them on. He then tried to stand, but the world seemed to tilt sideways, and he slid back down to his knees. He searched himself for his wand, but found it missing. "Accio WAND!" He again held out his hand, while the onlookers were held frozen in shock. Said missing wand floated to his outstretched hand.

"You fucking monsters," Harry hissed, seeing Malachai's condition. There were too many injuries to count. He was barely conscious, bleeding profusely through the nose.

"Harry?" he rasped, weakly, his breathing quite shallow.

"Shhh… just… stay still." He turned around to face the boy-preacher. "You really should not have done that." Digging down and allowing his anger to fill his mind, he thrust his wand at the boy. "Crucio."

Isaac dropped to the ground, letting out a blood-curdling scream that made Malachai's screams pale in comparison. It was as if every square inch of his body were on fire. "You know not the power aligned against you, you snivelling little bastard," Harry hissed, holding the boy under the terrible curse. "You NEVER touch me or my friends." A second gasp from the assembled group caused Harry to break his concentration, and the curse. A glowing green skull had come to life in the sky, an enormous snake protruding from its mouth. "Ah, my friend. So kind of it to come calling." He again thrust his hand at Isaac. "Tell me, which one of your little bastard friends participated in Malachai's torture?" Silence. "I will count to three…"

"Harry…" said Malachai, weakly, "Do not…"

"One." Still, silence. "Two… Crucio." Isaac again fell to the ground, thrashing about, as the terrible curse wracked his body. "You know, one of my close friends' parents were tortured to insanity with this curse. They were good friends with my parents. You won't be in much shape to lead your demented flock should you go mental, now, eh mate?" he had a light tone, even though the boy continued to scream under the curse. Harry finally lifted it. "Shall we start again? A name. That's all it takes. One…"

"It was… Benjamin," Isaac ground out, "P-p-please, do not… curse me again!"

"Ah, so there IS a little boy in there somewhere—you!" Harry hissed, seeing one of the older boys take a step toward them, "One more step and you'll feel the curse too! Now bring me Benjamin!"

it took no further persuasion. Benjamin was brought forward, rather eagerly, by his peers.

"You will burn for this, wizard!" spoke Benjamin, glaring at Harry.

"My soul's probably already condemned many times over, but I will do anything to protect my friends. You're lucky you didn't kill him. For now, allow me to show you what pain truly means… Crucio." Benjamin also collapsed to the ground, writhing in agonizing pain.

The Belfrows had been long-term residents of Gatlin, practically since the town had been founded. Their household, 2 miles from town, was pretty much normal, when one looked from the edge of the property. However, they were by no means normal. For, you see, the Belfrows were a magical family, with two daughters attending Salem Witches Institute, and a 4-year-old son who was already doing plenty of magic.

So, on this particular evening, seeing the Dark Mark appear over Gatlin, they wasted no time contacting the Wizarding council office by floo. "Yes… Auror office, please… yeah, we need the Aurors here… no, not my residence… The Dark Mark has appeared about 2 miles from here… no no, Gatlin, the Muggle community south of us… great, thank you."

Harry held the boy under the pain curse for nearly a minute, finally leaving him heaving, curled up in a fetal position, having both wet and soiled himself. "I don't see your god, coming to the rescue. Perhaps it revels in the pain and misery. Just remember this. You reap what you sew." Harry leaned over, touching Malachai's nose with his index finger. "This is probably gonna hurt… Episkey." The boy's nose snapped back into place, with a painful crunch, but he did not cry out.

"You'll all do well to get the fuck out of here," said Harry, in a low growl. He then thrust his hand at the edge of the clearing, part that had not yet caught fire, hissing something in parseltongue. It made Isaac's skin crawl. The wizard was the incarnation of evil, in his eyes.

The worst was yet to happen. Brilliant flames erupted from Harry's outstretched hand, to fly into the as of yet un-ignited corn, to flare up into a terrible conflagration. The fire seemed to take on a life of its own. With a gesture from his hand, the fire seemed to join with the other flames. "This ground is forever tainted, and so shall be destroyed along with everything on it." The flames seemed to grow heads, sometimes of snakes, sometimes of dragons, greedily consuming the stalks of corn. "Where is your god now, Isaac? Does he dare challenge the fire?" Harry mocked. At precisely that moment, a terrifying shriek let out from somewhere within the burning crop. "Ah, he comes. Afraid, Isaac?" They boy glared at him, watching the maelstrom around them. His opportunity to escape had long passed.

"You will burn in this fire too, wizard!" Isaac shrieked.

"Oh, but, see… I think not. The fire only answers to me, Isaac. It will not burn its master. You, on the other hand, should it be my wish, it would most happily do so. But I am a merciful wizard, unlike another I know all too well. Believe me when I say, false prophet, the pain you felt is nothing near what you or Benjamin deserve. Of course, you will be relieved to know this, it will be the last time you shall ever see me or Malachai. We leave this world behind, and return to my own." Harry again raised his hand, hissing something, once again making Isaac's skin crawl. "The fire, meanwhile, continues to do my bidding until all within this field is destroyed. Only then shall it dispel itself. Be thankful I do not take more than that. Malachai… anything you wish to say?"

"Help me… lift my head." Harry nodded, then tilted Malachai's head so he could face the boy-preacher. He drew back slightly, and blew a bloody wad of spit in the boy's face. "Fuck you, Isaac."

"He about sums it up nicely, I think," said Harry, while Isaac wiped the gob of spit off his face. "Morgana take you." He still cradled Malachai's head in his hand. "I'm gonna bind you again, like I did when we first met, all right? Just so I don't' make any of your injuries worse."

"Sounds right to me."

"Petrificus Totalis," whispered Harry, touching an index finger to the back of the boy's head. The boy froze. "All right, back to the trunk then." They vanished with a noisy CRACK.

At exactly the same time, there were a number of POPs, as more than a dozen witches and wizards appeared in the clearing. "Ministry of magic!" shouted one, wand trained on Isaac.

"You—you're wizards too?" It came out not as the boy-preacher, but a frightened 12 year old.

"Oh lovely, Muggles involved," said another wizard, "We'll need Magical Accidents and Catastrophes involved. Jones, dispatch a Patronus back to Toronto."

"All right, boy, what happened here?"

"Bleedin' Christ, it's Fiendfyre!" shouted another wizard, seeing the cursed flames. "Who did this?!"

"H-he vanished!" Isaac exclaimed. Benjamin was in no condition to speak, he was still curled up in the fetal position, whimpering like a baby. Another wizard knelt beside him, gesturing with his wand. "My God, this boy's been under the Cruciatus curse for several minutes!"

"No sign of Death Eaters, nor anyone dead," cited a witch, "But I do detect some most unsettling magic in addition to the cursed fire."

"I'll ask you again, boy, what's happened here?" demanded the first wizard, gesturing at Isaac.

"Easy on him, he's been dealt the pain curse as well." The first wizard nodded, then pushed gently into the Isaac's mind. Without the demon to protect him, the wizard was easily able to enter, and understand what had happened. He was unprepared for the ghastly stream of memories he viewed, which reached much further back than just that evening.

"We need backup, NOW."

"What's wrong?"

"The darkness here easily matches that of Voldemort. Dispatch a second Patronus to Toronto, and the wizard council in New York."

"What's happened?"

"Demonic possession on a scale I've not ever witnessed," answered the first wizard, gravely, "More than 50 children involved. They've murdered all the adults here, and kill anyone else who come near it."

"C'mon, let's get the hell out of here, 'fore we're burned alive!" shouted another Auror, as the flames seemed to threaten the clearing. The group grabbed the two injured boys, and vanished from the clearing with a number of loud POPs. It seemed that then and only then, did the fire move to consume the remains of the clearing.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: We are just about at the end of Harry's visit to the CotC universe. Once again, I make the point that Harry's most certainly capable of casting unforgivables, particularly when angered. And, yes, attacking and torturing a close friend will tend to do that. Again note the warning: dark!harry_


	12. Wounds Licked

_Shout-outs to reviewers:__ Notaveryaffablerabbit, cinnamon-shake, child-of-paradox-and-chaos, italian4321, Cocoagirl3, and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_Also, another note, I may be changing the rating of this story to 'M', as indeed, one of my reviewers has pointed out some of the material I cover may not be suitable for a younger crowd._

_CAUTION: Spoilers for PoA, Cedric/Harry__/Malachai fluff in a tub…_

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry once again fills the role of healer; a small prank war erupts between Cedric, the twins, and Sirius; Malachai finds himself dragged into the tub with Harry and Cedric…_

_

* * *

  
_

**12:WOUNDS LICKED  
Or, how Malachai ends up in a tub with two other boys**

Harry and Malachai landed somewhat awkwardly in the common room of the trunk. It was deserted. 'How long was I out for?' Harry wondered, sticking up an index finger. "Tempus." '11:20 pm' wafted from it. 'And where the hell did Cedric get to?' Harry wondered, as he began looking his injured friend over. Indeed, injured he was. He would need more blood, he knew that just by his pale face, and the numerous bleeding cuts. Harry again banished the shirt, which had been shredded for the most part. It was as if they had dragged Malachai through the corn. The scratches just about confirmed that.

"Harry?" Harry looked up to see Cedric and the twins step into the room from the entry.

"Bloody hell, what happened?" Fred looked horrified.

"Attacked, badly," answered Harry. His head was still swimming, and he could feel an awful throbbing sensation at the back of his head. Cedric was immediately at Harry's side, checking his boyfriend over for injuries.

"Cedric… no, I'm fine… help me with…" the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, being replaced with fear and anguish. "H-help me move him into our room, Ced."

A few moments later, Malachai lay on the floor of their bedroom. Harry's parents were appalled at the boy's appearance, but did not ask questions, given the grave condition. Fred and George looked on, equally disturbed at Malachai's condition, while Harry began to heal the dozens of more serious injuries.

"I won't be in any shape to do anything the next little while," he spoke as he did so, "They ambushed us when we left the trunk."

"I came up to fly with you guys, but… you were long gone," said Cedric, "I was actually a little put out that you'd do that."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Harry! There's nothing to be sorry for! How could that be your fault?" Cedric admonished. But Harry snorted, saying, "Really? I could have checked the bloody map first! I didn't, in such a hurry to get off and have some fun! There are a bunch of dangerous little monsters outside. They might as well have been Death Eaters!" Harry snarled. A number of smaller objects in the room began to vibrate, as his magic seemed to match his temper. Cedric touched a hand to Harry's shoulder. He could feel the angry waves of energy radiating from his boyfriend. "Harry, you need to calm down. You may hurt him with your magic, rather than heal," Cedric warned. Harry nodded; Cedric's words were the truth.

"George. The cabinet there—" Harry pointed to a cabinet beside the entrance to the bathroom, "—fetch me a pain relieving potion, if you will. The cabinet's locked with a simple locking charm." The twin nodded, crossing the room, drawing his wand. "Alohamora," he spoke, and said cabinet opened with a click. It took only a few seconds for him to locate the required potion; he brought it to Harry at once. "Quite the collection of potions, Harry."

"I made sure to stock up on the standard ones," said Harry, accepting the potion, "Never know when they'll come in handy."

"When did you do that?" questioned Cedric.

"The second time I visited Gringotts… just before that I visited the apothecary. Of course, I can brew most of the potions I have myself, but… I haven't had the time just yet," answered the raven-haired boy, as he continued healing the many cuts on Malachai's torso. The conversation was helping to keep his mind off the severity of the situation.

"Okay. I think I can release the body bind now," Harry decided, drawing his wand. Casting the body bind had been draining without it. "Finite," he whispered, then, "You need to drink this, it'll numb the pain." Malachai nodded, and while Harry propped his head up, he drank the offered potion. "I'm certainly familiar with that one, having been held under the Cruciatus curse for more times than I'd like to count." That drew a gasp from his parents' portrait.

"I guess… after everything he's told us, it shouldn't be surprising," said Cedric, although the look on his face demonstrated he was disturbed at the revelation.

"Did they… hurt you, Harry?" questioned Malachai. His voice was weak and raw.

"No… just the… well, whatever they hit us with."

"Mate, you realize you look like you had it out with Crookshanks," said George. It was then Harry realized his arms, legs, and face actually stung.

"They must've dragged us through the field or something," Harry guessed, gesturing at the potions cabinet with his wand. "Accio pain numbing potion!"

"Who's Crookshanks?" inquired Malachai.

"Hermione's cat. I've mentioned Hermione before. One of my best friends," answered Harry, "The cat's got fur that's brighter than your hair." He then thought of something, as the required potion sailed into his outstretched hand. "Shit! My broom!"

"Of all the things to worry about," Lily muttered.

"It was a Christmas gift from Sirius, thank you very much!" Harry snapped, "Ced, George, would you guys mind having a look for it? Carefully! Check the map before you leave, so there won't be any further abductions." Both boys nodded, and quickly left the room. Harry downed the potion, at once feeling the effects. A nice hot soak in the tub would do wonders later; score double points should a certain Hufflepuff join him.

A few minutes later, George and Cedric returned, with Fred in tow. George had Harry's missing broom in hand, but it looked to be in bad shape. One of the stirrups had been bent badly, and a number of the bristles had been broken. "We found it on the street," he announced.

"Thanks… just set it over there… on the dresser," said Harry, frustrated. At least it wasn't totally destroyed, as his Nimbus 2000 had been—the whole reason Sirius had bought him the Firebolt in the first place. He would have to visit Quality Quidditch Supplies to have it fixed. He turned his attention back to Malachai. "Okay, this may hurt," he warned, "Your knee's been busted badly."

"Tell me something I don't already know… your potion only does so much." His voice still came out barely above a whisper. Harry pointed his wand at the injured knee. "Ready?"

"Just… get it over with."

"Episkey," spoke Harry, and there was a sickening squelch as bone and cartilage were magically mended, causing Malachai to let out an anguished cry(1).

"S-sorry."

"No… it's fine."

"Almost done," said Harry, "You've lost a fair bit of blood."

"My back… check my back." Harry nodded, then levitated the boy and turned him on his side.

"Merlin's balls!" Harry gasped, seeing the gaping stab wound in the boy's back, still bleeding badly. A puddle had formed on the carpet.

"Isaac… said it was symbolic," said Malachai.

"Hold still. This might hurt too… Episkey." It certainly hurt, as tissue and organs healed, yet, it was nothing compared to his knee. Harry looked for any further injuries, the let him float back to the floor. "I'm going to give you blood, like I did the first time," said Harry. Malachai nodded, presenting his left hand. "I… no longer have my knife."

"No worries there. Hold your hand still…" said Harry, then whispered, "Diffindo," drawing his wand across Malachai's hand. His palm seemed to split open, blood welling up from it. Harry quickly repeated the same with his own hand, and again mashed the two together. "My blood, offered freely."

"Your blood, accepted freely," spoke the ginger-haired teen, giving Harry surprise. "Does this make us brothers?"

"Err… I don't know," answered Harry, "But we do share a bond now, stronger than before, even."

"Harry, you realize what you're doing could be considered dark magic?" said Cedric, watching with fascination. The twins had taken over Harry's bed, but were also watching.

"I don't care. I have no use for the Ministry of Magic. They proved just how useless they truly are, with that farce of a trial. I swear, I'm gonna ruin Fudge once and for all, the pompous git."

"Who is this Fudge?" questioned Malachai, their hands still tightly bound together.

"The Minister of Magic," answered Harry, "He's got his head so far up his own arse he's been blinded by his own shit." That got a snicker from the twins. "Right, that should just about do it," he said, relaxing his grip. Malachai did the same, and they separated their hands. Harry quickly healed the cuts on both hands. "Anything I missed?"

"No," said Malachai, finally getting into a sitting position. Although Harry had healed all of his cuts and injuries, he still looked a mess.

"Mate, I think you'll be needing a new wardrobe," said Cedric.

"Tomorrow. I have a few places in mind that should suit, as well as a stop at Madam Malkin's. Need to think about new robes for the school year anyway," said Harry.

"Do not waste—"

"Waste my money on one of my best friends? Look, mate, I have more than enough to spend as I see fit. You're not a waste… nor are any of the other kids here. What else am I going to spend it on? Frivolous things? Expensive cars, houses, junk that I'll never use? Besides… I'm tired of those rough pants you wear rubbing against my legs in the middle of the night."

"Well, I could sleep in the nude…"

"Um… err… right," said Harry, feeling his face get VERY warm. The twins looked at each other, grinning madly, while Cedric cast glares at everyone.

"George, I do believe SOMEONE might be jealous."

"I believe you're right, Fred." BANG! Both twins' hair suddenly became a tangle of weeds. The boys smirked at each other, and Cedric suddenly found himself completely blue from head to toe.

"Err… Malachai… you might want to duck," Harry warned, as the jinxes flew. The boy could only laugh, watching the very colourful spells flying across the room, each one having an amusing effect. It had another effect, however, lightening the previous dark mood that hung over the room.

Sirius, hearing the commotion from another part of the flat, stuck his head in the door to investigate, and promptly found his facial hair banished, and his hair also turned into a tangle of weeds.

"Now how did I know you two would be involved," said Sirius, with a barking laugh. "You do know you dance a dangerous dance, pranking a Marauder."

"They're in for it now," quipped James, from his portrait.

"Okay, I think we'll just bow out of this," said Harry, grabbing Malachai by the wrist. They popped away.

"Hey, I did find that rather funny," said Malachai, as they landed in the room which would eventually be the study and library. Both were still sitting.

"Yeah, amusing until your skin is every colour of the rainbow… or you've got demonic spikes coming out of your back…" said Harry, but he was having trouble keeping a straight face.

"The twins always act this way?"

"Since I've known them. Just like their brothers and sister… well, save for one of them. The Weasleys are good as gold, the closest thing I've got to a family, other than Sirius. Molly and Arthur would have adopted me if they could have."

A few minutes later, Sirius poked his head in the room, and both boys snickered at his appearance. He'd got it as good as he gave by the looks of it.

"You'll need to free your boyfriend, he's a little, well, hung up at the moment," spoke his godfather, gesturing at himself with his wand.

"Sirius… allow me…" said Harry, pointing his wand at his godfather. "Finite incantatem."

"Ah, of course. Thank you. Now, if I might get back to my tea—" he started, finally taking in the boys. "What happened to you?"

"Isaac happened," answered Harry, "And I certainly paid him back for our condition. I think a nice hot soak in the tub will help loads."

"Should we be fetching Madam Pomfrey?"

"No, I have everything in hand," answered Harry.

"What happened exactly?"

"I'll tell you later. It was ugly, that's all I'll add. But I do know this: Isaac and his little sycophant followers have a healthy fear of me now."

"Harry, what did you do to him exactly? It sounded like he was being skinned alive," said Malachai.

"Yeah, the Cruciatus curse tends to do that," said Harry, getting a dark look from his godfather. "Look, he was torturing us—or at least his first mate was. They seemed to take sick pleasure out of it, so I returned the favour ten-fold. At least I now know there actually IS a 12 year old inside Isaac's body."

"You tortured a 12 year old boy with the Cruciatus curse," Sirius deadpanned. "Harry, I truly worry."

"I happen to appreciate what he did. They would have killed us both," spoke Malachai.

"I really think we need to get back to London," said Sirius, "This world is having a very poor influence on you."

"In the morning. I'll be returning the trunk to my aunt's house. I'll be sure to write a letter to Dumbledore, let him know I'm all right and so on."

"Yes, among other people. You realize Snape made twice the visits to Grimmauld place than he usually does?"

"Wow. The snarky potions master is actually concerned about me," said Harry, with a smirk.

"Okay, not that this conversation is great and all, but I would like to get cleaned up." Malachai gestured to his still very messy appearance.

"Right, yes. Let's get cleaned up. My face still stings in at least a dozen places," said Harry, attempting to get to his feet. He almost fell over from the overwhelming bout of vertigo.

"All right there, pup?"

"Lean on me," Malachai offered, "What's wrong?"

"Whatever they hit me with… it knocked me silly… probably got a concussion."

"You will be visiting Madam Pomfrey in the morning," said Sirius, leaving no room for argument, "Perhaps you too," he added, gesturing to Malachai.

"Maybe she can recommend a good mind healer while she's at it."

Making their way slowly back into Harry's room, they came upon the most amusing sight. His boyfriend and the twins were neatly tied up with their own hair, which had been lengthened for that purpose. Both of his parents were smirking in their portrait.

"Y'know, we could leave them this way," Harry smirked, although he still leaned against Malachai for support. The other boy seemed to stare at the predicament the others found themselves in, before he burst out laughing.

"Har, har, har," said Cedric, "Now how about letting us out of this?"

"Oh, okay, fine," said Harry, in mock defeat. He gestured with his wand, cancelling the number of charms on his boyfriend. He repeated the process for the twins. "Now. You two…" Harry gestured toward the twins, "We are off to bed soon. Go play in your own room."

"Oh, the shame of it!"

"We've been evicted!" cried George, in mock tears, as the twins made a retreat from the room.

"Right. My next stop is a hot bath to soothe my scratches," said Harry, "Can't exactly heal those with magic."

"Couldn't you just… do it in a mirror?"

"No."

"Let me," offered Cedric, but Harry declined. "Just help me into the bathroom, guys."

Moments later, with the tub filling, he stripped off his damaged clothes. They were Dudley's old cast-offs anyway; they would be going in the rubbish bin once he was finished. Malachai wasn't the only one in need of clothes at this point. He gripped the edge of the tub, and climbed in, noticing then the other boys were blushing.

"Coming with?" he gestured at Cedric, who only nodded, also stripping off his clothes. "Considering what that godfather of yours did to me…"

"Aw, come on, Ced, you should think of it as an honour to be pranked by a Marauder."

"Right, sure, as if I enjoyed being bound up in my own bloody hair. That didn't do anything for my pride nor my dignity," Cedric drawled, as he stepped into the filling tub and made himself comfortable.

"Um, okay. I'll just be—"

"Accio Malachai!" said Harry, a hand thrust at the boy, with a smirk. The boy found himself falling into the tub with a bit of a splash.

"Umm…"

"Harry, err…"

"Well, I'm not the only one who needs cleaning," answered Harry, still smirking.

"Not that a cleaning spell would have done just as well," Cedric drawled, but it was all tongue in cheek.

"You know in some part of the world this… um…"

"Isn't right? Well, just remember. My body might only be 15, but in reality, I'm 26. So I'm older than both of you."

"Harry, you know you're missing a clump of hair in the back, right?" questioned Malachai, reaching up a finger, pressing it to the almost bare spot.

"Must've splinched myself… when I killed that boy."

"Splinched?"

"Apparition requires great concentration. Destination, Determination, and Deliberation, the three 'D's. Splinching happens when a person's not determined enough… or in my case, distracted. Hair's not too bad… but leaving a finger behind, err… well."

"That happens?" Malachai looked worried.

"I did it enough times learning myself. Ron and Hermione taught me, since I couldn't actually learn from the Ministry instructor, being a fugitive and all that," Harry explained.

"But… is it fixable?"

"Yeah, of course," said Harry, turning off the water, which had rose up to nearly cover their shoulders, "Hermione of course, figured out what the spell was… a bit of a nuisance having to get Dumbledore or McGonagall to fix it all the time. Most of the time, it was the end of a finger, or a toe… stuff like that… I think the worst was when I left an entire arm behind." Malachai looked somewhere between disgusted and horrified.

"But it's not that bad, see," said Harry, wiggling his fingers, "Nothing that was permanent."

"Sure. Just don't do that, well, um, when you're—"

"What, when you side-along with us? That hasn't ever happened. If anyone's gonna get splinched, it'll be me. Lean forward," said Harry, while Cedric had adjusted himself to cuddle up to Harry. Harry was doing his best not to blush, considering what Cedric was doing with his hands, unseen underwater. Malachai did as asked, and Harry began to rub his back, particularly where the stab mark had been. The boy could feel it wasn't just the physical motions, but Harry's magic, too, was working its way through the skin, having a very calming and relaxing effect. 'Cedric's a lucky kid,' he thought to himself.

"'ya know, I should be jealous," noted Cedric, reminding Malachai he and Harry were not alone. "I wouldn't let just ANYONE get away with that… err… or, Harry doing that to just about anyone, should I rephrase."

"Get used to it," Harry muttered, then let out a small gasp. "Bloody hell, I didn't just say that?"

"Yep, you did," said Cedric, with a smirk. Yet, how would Malachai take that.

"Um, okay then…"

"I do believe you're blushing, Mr. Boardman," Harry grinned. That was all the answer he needed. Whatever might be the relationship with the new boy, it looked like it was just fine. "Cuddly as a cactus you said? I think not," Harry smirked. Malachai reacted by splashing Harry, but partially missed, nailing Cedric instead.

"Oi!" Cedric sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of water. He conjured up a bucket of water, and proceeded to dump it over the red head.

"Hey!"

"Don't look at me, he started it," Cedric whined.

"Children," Harry groaned, smirking all the while. "Behave or I'll drown the both of you."

"As if," retorted Malachai, but he gave a toothy grin, understanding it was all in fun. Wait, was he actually having fun? 'How much I've changed', he thought to himself. He knew who he owed for those changes: the raven-haired boy who was still gently messaging his back. He got to a kneeling position, then turned around, careful not to land on anyone's legs.

"Where are you going?"

"Just turning around… better." Malachai again sunk up to his shoulders in the warm water, now able to look his new friends in the eye.

"Comfortable, are we?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe I should have made the tub bigger," said Harry, "Didn't expect to share it with two, but…" he smirked.

"Well, you DID pull me in with you," said Malachai, with a smirk of his own.

"Yep, definitely need to make the tub bigger. Tomorrow sometime," Harry decided.

"It's not as if I'll make this a habit."

"We'll see," said Harry, smirking again.

The following morning, after breakfast, Harry climbed back out of the trunk, after consulting the map, and making sure no one was awaiting for them outside. He collected said trunk, then called on Fawkes, asking him to return him to Privet Drive. With a brilliant flash of golden flames, boy, bird, and trunk vanished from Gatlin, Nebraska, for what would hopefully be the last time.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So, this is where I leave the "Children of the Corn" universe. It's a given the American council of magic for the area, as well as the Canadian Ministry of Magic would certainly investigate the strange goings on in the area, but Harry's washed his hands of it at this point._

_So, onward and upward, Harry returns to his own world. The thing is, for how long? He's certainly got plenty of irons in the fire at this point, what with a useless minister of magic, a certain toad threatening to return to Hogwarts, and the orphaned kids in his trunk. Never mind the threat on the horizon from a certain Dark Lord…_

_(1) Drawing from HBP movie-verse here. JKR described the healing charm as being 'very hot, then very cold'. I think the movie-verse application is more realistic. C'mon, it's a broken nose—or in this case, a busted knee! It's gonna HURT being magically reset._


	13. Order of the Corn?

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __Notaveryaffablerabbit, Jimbocous, cinnamon-shake, and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

Harry and Malachai get a check-up from Madam Pomfrey, and Malachai experiences the floo network for the first time; Harry reconnects with Bill Weasley, as well as his two best friends; and Harry acts on a suggestion to change the floo address to his trunk…

* * *

**13:ORDER OF THE CORN?  
Or, harry changes his floo address**

Once Harry had placed the trunk where it belonged, he then removed the charms he had placed on his door to keep the Dursleys out. In a small way, it was good to be back—the demon in the corn field had really taken him by surprise. He felt a small pang of regret at not being able to defeat it, but yet, with the amount of magical activity set off the night before, he was certain the authorities would investigate. The Canadian Ministry of Magic had a pretty strong Auror corps, as well as a healthy contingent of Unspeakables. Between them, the mystery would be solved, and the remaining kids looked after. 'With luck, Isaac will be dissected by the Department of Mysteries,' he thought to himself, bitterly, 'Hopefully quite painfully at that.'

Focusing on the present, he opened the door, and went downstairs. Surprisingly, the house was empty. 'Of course,' he thought, 'the Dursleys were likely all out going about their business.' It was as if Harry hadn't even existed. He wondered if his aunt had even bothered to try and contact Dumbledore or the Order about his whereabouts. Unlikely, he decided, as he returned to his room, and the trunk.

"Well, did we make it?" questioned Cedric, stepping into the common room.

"Yeah, everything's fine," said Harry, kneeling in front of the fireplace. He tossed a pinch of floo powder into the grate, then called out, "Hogwarts, Severus Snape's office!" He stuck his head into the green flames, and again found himself looking out into the professor's office. "Professor?" No answer. 'Damn,' he thought, pulling back out of the fire. He was just in time to hear a small explosion ring out from one of the rooms. Several other doors opened in the corridor, whispering, and said doors closed again. 'The twins are up to no good… again,' thought Harry, and proceeded to knock on said door. It opened to reveal a black-faced twin, indistinguishable due to the soot.

"Hi Harry… err… sorry 'bout that."

"Guys… I don't mind, just, don't blow up the trunk, okay? By the way, we've returned to London, so… feel free to use the floo."

"Brilliant!"

"Yes, about that floo, Harry." Harry turned around to see Sirius standing at his door. "I'm floo'ing Madam Pomfrey so you can get checked out."

"I'll go wake Malachai, then. He needs to be checked out as well," Harry decided.

"Harry. I'm heading home for the day, just to check in with mum and dad," said Cedric. Harry nodded, and they embraced tightly. "I'll be back, likely around supper time." Harry watched him leave, then headed for their bedroom.

Minutes later, a sleepy red head was being led out to the fireplace. "Sorry to drag you out of bed, but… well, someone's insisting we be checked out by a healer," Harry apologized.

"What are we doing in front of the fire place, though?"

"That's how we're getting to Hogwarts. Just like when we apparate, I want you to grip my arm tightly, and whatever happens, don't let go until I tell you to." Harry grabbed a fistful of floo powder, and threw it into the crackling fire, causing the flames to turn a brilliant green, then spoke, "Hogwarts, infirmary!"

"WHAT?!"

"Just trust me! It won't hurt!" said Harry, and pushed himself and his struggling friend into the flames.

For Malachai, it had to be one of the most bizarre things he had ever experienced. He could see dozens of individual grates flying by at a crazy rate of speed, while they whirled about. He held Harry's arm in a death grip, until they were pushed toward one of the grates, at which they were unceremoniously expelled from the fireplace to land in a tangled mass of limbs.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" Malachai exploded, "I so want to hit you right now."

"Mr. Potter. Still haven't learned the intricacies of the floo network, I see," spoke Madam Pomfrey, stepping out of her office. "Oh. Mr. Weasley—no, you're not a Weasley," said the healer, getting a closer look at Harry's friend.

"No, ma'am. Harry and I just met a few days ago." Malachai had managed to calm himself down, seeing he was still in one piece.

"I see. And are you needing my services as well?"

"He was hurt more than I was, but… we both were struck over the head with a blunt object."

"All right, pick a bed—ONE TO A BED, please." Madam Pomfrey was still not comfortable with the idea of Harry and another boy doing… things… together. She wasn't sure what the relationship was between Harry and this new boy, and left nothing to chance.

"How long will we be here?"

"That remains to be seen, Mr…"

"Boardman. Malachai Boardman." Madam Pomfrey nodded to him, then said, "It depends on how long my examination takes." She drew her wand, and began muttering several incantations, beginning with Harry.

"Well, Mr. Potter, you do indeed have a concussion, although a mild one. Who managed to heal Mr. Boardman's injuries? The work is admirable."

"It was—" Malachai began, but Harry cut him off, saying, "I'd rather not say." That got a questioning look from both the red head and Madam Pomfrey. Harry realized he would have to have a discussion with his new friend about secrecy. It wouldn't do for him to accidentally reveal things about Harry's future.

"Very well then. I won't keep either of you any longer, but you will keep the activity to a minimum for the next few days, Mr. Potter. I would advise against using too much magic as well, but seeing as you're at your Muggle relatives, that won't be an issue."

"But," Malachai began, and Harry once again had to cut across him, saying, "Yeah, I know." Malachai cast him a questioning look. "Before we go… is Professor Snape around?"

"He should be in his quarters," answered the matron.

"Odd, I fire-called him earlier," said Harry, "May we borrow your floo?"

"Oh god, we're not going that way again?" questioned Malachai, while Madam Pomfrey only nodded.

"Well, how did you THINK we were getting back? Walking?"

"Can't you just—" Malachai began, but Harry shook his head, and mouthed, 'secret'. The boy got it instantly, as they walked over to the fireplace. Harry tossed a pinch of floo powder into the fire, and again tried Snape's office.

"Potter… you have returned."

"Yes sir. May a friend and I come through? We're in the infirmary," questioned Harry. Snape only inclined his head, and Harry pulled his head back out. "Let's go."

Moments later, they were unceremoniously dumped onto the carpet in Snape's office, the potions master looking down on them with a sneer on his lips.

"'afternoon, professor," Harry greeted. Snape only remained silent for a moment, studying Harry and his companion. Another Weasley he hadn't been aware of? He could easily pass for an older sibling.

"This is Malachai," Harry introduced, "Malachai, this is professor Snape." Both only nodded at the other. Snape finally broke the silence, saying, "Where exactly did you disappear to, Potter? You've had the entire Order running half spare."

"A very long story, sir. I tried to fire call earlier, but you weren't here. We just got back this morning, and well. I don't know how it happened, how I ended up where I did. But I met Malachai there, and a few others. Are you in the middle of something, or can you come back to the trunk with us?"

A few moments and another hair-raising trip through the floo, and the two boys were back in the trunk. Moments following that, Snape also stepped out of the floo.

"Well? What did Madam Pomfrey say?" questioned Sirius, then stared questioning at Snape. "You've given Severus access to your trunk?"

"Yes, of course I did," answered Harry, "And to your first question, I've got a slight concussion… explains the headache, I guess… haven't had one like that in a while, well… since before I killed Vol—Tom." As Harry explained, Snape was looking about the common room. "More changes?"

"It was needed. There's more than a few people around, sir," answered Harry, "Come into the dining room for now."

"I still need more sleep," Malachai decided, "Nice meeting you professor." With that, he was off through the door to the corridor.

"Yes, and you should very well follow," said Sirius, although they were headed into the dining room.

"I think professor Snape should know what's happened. Someone who's got a connection with the Order."

"Indeed," Snape agreed.

"And I can't?" questioned Sirius.

"No, you can't. Not until this dragon shit's been sorted out. I swore the other day in front of the Wizengamot, I will ruin Fudge for this. And that's EXACTLY what I'm planning to do. My future memory will come in very useful."

"Explain exactly what's happened a few days ago that's got Dumbledore in such a state," Snape at last questioned, with a scowl.

"It really wasn't my fault," answered Harry, and launched into a lengthy explanation of the past 4 days' events.

"You still amaze me at how trouble seems to find you, Pot—Harry," said Snape, as he nursed a cup of tea from the tea service Kreacher had brought out.

"Something that has me stumped as well, sir," answered Harry, "It's as if I'm a magnet for misadventure."

"I'll be sure to enlighten the Order as to your whereabouts, but you do realize, most things will not remain a secret for long," Snape warned, "The headmaster has his ways of ferreting out information you would rather him not know."

"I know that all too well, sir. It's a chance I have to take for now, just until I set a few other things in motion. See, one of the biggest mistakes I ever made was thinking I had to do everything myself. I guess it's part of my stubborn streak, or perhaps my 'save everyone' mentality. I don't know, but the point is, I need help to do the task I've been assigned. Allies go a long way in winning the war."

"And the children who have now joined you here?"

"They will stay here. Out of sight, out of the way. Just like Sirius, for now. I have a number of wards on my trunk that are equally as effective as a Fidelius charm. If a person's not supposed to be in here, they're not in here—Sirius, remind me later I need to make up a black list… people that are NEVER to set foot in here. Belletrix Lestrange, for example."

"Warding? Who set the wards, Harry?" questioned Snape. Harry grinned, and answered, "I did… with help from Cedric, but it was mostly my work."

"And who taught you?"

"You probably already know him. Who works for Gringotts as a curse-breaker?"

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," Snape answered, to which Harry grinned. "He's a handful in more ways than one. He had a thing going for Miss Delacour the summer before what would have been my 6th year. She caught him one night, well, err… never mind that," said Harry, his face getting rather hot. His mind raced to that particular night, when the eldest Weasley boy approached him, completely wasted, rambling on about his job, the coming war, and surprisingly, his love life. One thing had led to another, and Fleur had discovered them snuggled together on the couch the following morning, in perhaps a compromising position. The entire Burrow had heard her yelling, and it had been the last time anyone saw her.

"Harry?"

"Just thinking, is all."

"Just thinking? Your face looks like you've been doused with hot water, pup. Last time I saw you look like that, you'd been out with Cedric."

"Guilty as charged," answered Harry.

"You're telling me you and Bill Weasley—"

"Yes."

"So what happened?"

"It was the longest relationship I had with anyone. It wasn't the same as Cedric, but… I mean, he understood, right? I think if… if things hadn't turned out as they did… we might have bonded. Of course, one night in 2001, Death Eaters caught up to us in Newcastle. They blew up part of the street, and…" Harry couldn't finish, as a flood of memories once again filled his head. Harry had to fight hard to push them all back into their proper places, and reign in his emotions.

"Those are memories you should store in a Pensieve," said Snape, "They only serve—"

"As a reminder to why I'm doing this. Why I'm back here, 11 years into the past," answered Harry, curtly.

"And what will happen when you two meet this time around?" questioned Sirius.

"I might snog him senseless," answered Harry with a smirk, "Although I'll probably have to ask Cedric first." The vision of doing exactly that helped restore his mood.

"Well, there's something to be said about Potter men going for red-heads," said Sirius, with a smirk, "At least so your father said." Harry had to grin, although that got him thinking about something… or more specifically, a certain red-head who was sleeping in his bed. What was the nature of their relationship? Sure, it had been only 4 days, but the other boy seemed to stick to him like glue. Of course, he couldn't deny there was some sort of bond between them. Perhaps it was the blood bond… or something else.

Another scary thought occurred to him. If just a memory could stir him up, what would seeing Bill again do? They had been madly in love, tossing the age difference to the wind. There was no doubt those feelings would be stirred up something fierce. How would Cedric react?

Then another thought hit him. There had been a situation after Bill. He had met two guys who were already in love with each other. Both of them were Muggles, but they took Harry in quite easily, not minding the triangle it formed. They loved each other equally, and trusted each other equally, forming a rather unique dynamic.

Once again, however, fate intervened, and on a cold January evening, travelling on the tube, a bomb detonated on the train, collapsing part of the tunnel. He'd been severely injured, and only barely made it to St. Mungo's. His two mates were not so lucky. It was several days before he learned of their fate, and the fact it had been the work of Death Eaters. He realized his mistake too late: he'd grown complacent, settling into a comfortable routine.

The question then came up: how long would he be able to keep Voldemort at bay?

"A sickle for your thoughts," said Sirius.

"Just thinking. Even though I've prevented Vol-Riddle from regaining his body, he'll try again. How long can I keep him at bay? I'm worried about what will happen when I start destroying his Horcruxes. Will he know it?"

"I would suggest you collect all of them before you try," said Snape, "In his present state, he will have a much stronger connection with them, and so will likely know if one is destroyed."

"Then I'll need a place to keep them. Looks like I'll be contacting a certain Weasley sooner rather than later, I'll need his help." Harry felt his face grow warm once again, thinking of the relationship he'd had with Bill the first time around.

"And why would you need him?"

"He knows a 3-thousand year old Egyptian warding spell meant to contain dark or black magic. Perfect for keeping Horcruxes isolated… particularly considering there are now young children here."

"Indeed, easily impressionable children, Harry. I need not remind you," said Sirius. Harry nodded, saying, "I know. God, I've already had to secure a few things just in case. Wasn't really my plan to have a house full of kids—err, well, at least not 'till I'm older… but tell that to fate, or whatever. I've swore to protect them, and that's what I'll do."

After having a light lunch, and Snape had returned to his office, Harry took a seat at the drawing table, and began writing one of several letters. Dumbledore most certainly deserved to hear from Harry directly, and he actually debated about making a fire-call instead. However, there were a number of reasons for not doing so, and a letter would do the next best thing.

He carefully weighed the pros and cons about the next letter. If he wanted to try and pull Draco away from the dark path he was on, the letter he was about to write would most likely destroy any hopes of doing so. Yet, on the same token, he did have his memories to back up what he would say to the ice prince of Slytherin. The pro side won out, and so the second letter was completed. 'Let's see Fudge worm out of THAT one,' Harry thought, viciously, placing the letter into an envelope. That one would go with Hedwig. In the mean time… "Fawkes?" The phoenix appeared in a flash of golden flames. "Glad you're not busy. Can you take this to Dumbledore?" The bird blinked and nodded, extending a claw. Harry allowed the bird to take it. "All right, off you go, then."

Just then, a door flew open, and Job flew into the common room, with his sister hot on his heels. "Give it back, Jobbie!" she cried. The boy held one of her drawings in his hands, trying to keep it away from her.

"Both of you, STOP," said Harry, raising his voice, "What's going on?"

"Jobbie took my drawing and won't give it back! Make him give it back!"

"Accio drawing," said Harry, hand outstretched. The drawing snapped out of Job's hands, and flew into Harry's. He went to hand it back to the girl, but drew a sharp breath, seeing the contents.

He'd already seen most of the drawings she had done. Malachai had explained what each of them meant, and indeed, Harry understood the gravity. Sarah was definitely a seer, and would receive a letter from a magic school just before she turned 11.

The latest drawing was most unnerving, featuring Harry and two red-headed boys on a street, with three hooded shapes flying toward them. He knew at once what they were: Dementors. Unsettled, he handed the drawing back to Sarah. "D-don't tease your sister," he said to the boy, his voice barely even. Then he thought of something. "Sarah, are your visions always of unhappy things?"

"Mostly."

"Divination will help you develop your skill, I think," said Harry.

"Is the picture bad?" questioned Job. Harry nodded, saying, "It's something I've faced before though. I had hoped it wouldn't… well… I wish I didn't have to. Sarah, do you know who the other boys are? The twins?" Sarah shook her head. "Malachai?" She nodded. "Who's the other one then?"

"I don't know. I never saw him before."

Harry's mind was already racing, however, as he absently dismissed the twins. Obviously a Weasley. The only people with red hair he knew, other than Malachai. The scary fact was, this was something that WOULD happen, not something that MIGHT. Sarah's drawings always foretold a future event. He once again felt frustrated and overwhelmed. How could he protect his friends when fate was determined to put them in terrible danger?

Pushing those thoughts to the side, he sat back down at the drawing table, and set about writing to his two best friends. Ron and Hermione would be in a right state by now, not hearing from him for nearly a week. They would have to know what was going on, and it was only fair. He remembered how he had felt the last time around, when everyone was keeping secrets from him. It was a two-way street, after all. His note to both of them was short and simple: "Get to my relatives' place for 5:30 this afternoon, I have much to tell you."

Once the letters had been sent off with Hedwig, Harry turned his attention to the room he had decided would become the library and study. It had a sunken floor already, and was quite roomy as it was, being two storey high. It actually made the second storey dormitory a little strange with the cut-out on one side, but it was a necessity. The library would likely house a good number of books one day—the one he had the first time around was starting to give Hogwarts a run for its money, after all.

Harry had already built a number of shelves, and so now set about adding more, along with ladders to reach the upper sections. A large skylight was put in, set up identically to the ceiling in the dining room, charmed to reflect the current sky outside. Six chandeliers hung from it, casting light when it was dark from ever-lit candles.

While he worked, he kept an eye on the map, which he had focused on the outside. He would know the moment Ron and Hermione arrived, and would be able to greet them before the Dursleys raised unholy hell such as they did with Cedric. They were all home at this point, he had seen them all arrive throughout the afternoon, then disappear into the house.

As he finished the addition of a final set of shelves, he saw two names appear just outside the house. He wasted no time and popped out of the trunk, landing in his room. He made for the stairs just as the door bell rang.

"Got it, aunt Petunia," said Harry, seeing his aunt make for the door.

"Oh, more of your lot, I suppose," she sneered, then returned to the kitchen, as Harry opened the door.

"Harry! Are you all right?" questioned Hermione, "We got your note, what's wrong?"

"I'm fine, really… come in!"

"You sure mate? I mean, those relatives—" Ron began, but Harry only grinned as if he were pulling a grand prank. "Come on, got something to show you both." Both his friends looked at each other questioningly, but followed Harry into the house.

Moments later, the three of them stood in Harry's much larger room.

"How did you make your room bigger? You'll be expelled for using magic outside of school," Hermione scolded, to which Harry grinned again. "Right, then. I need a wizards oath from both of you that you will not disclose anything I am about to show you. The future is at stake, and I won't say another word until—"

"Right," said Ron, taking out his wand. Holding it in front of him, he spoke, "I, Ronald Bilius Weasley, swear on my magic, that I shall not disclose anything about to be shared with me by Harry James Potter, so mote it be."

"So mote it be," said Harry. Hermione quickly followed.

"Great, now that nasty business is out of the way." He gestured with his hand at his new trunk. "Addendum, Ronald Weasley. Addendum, Hermione Granger." Both times, the trunk lid glowed green. "Both of you. Grab onto my arms."

"What? Apparate?! Blimey, Harry, when did—"

"Just grab onto my arms, I'll explain in a minute." Both did so, and they vanished with a loud POP, to land in the common room of the trunk.

Both his friends looked around, dumb struck at the room. It took several moments before either of them could utter a word, while Harry just grinned.

"Bloody hell!" Ron finally managed.

"Harry, where did you get this? Is this where you've been gone the past few days?" questioned Hermione, "Everyone's been worried sick!"

"Well, partly. Come on, into the study for now, there's a bunch of others around and I do have a bit of a tale to tell. Kreacher?"

"Yes master Harry?" said Kreacher, standing in the doorway to the dining room.

"Could you bring us a bit of tea and maybe a few snacks? I know supper's about ready."

"Of course, right at once, master Harry," said Kreacher, with a slight bow. He was off into the kitchen.

"Come on, this way."

Moments later, they were seated on two couches at the centre of the study. Hermione was already eyeing several books that filled a few of the shelves, and Harry again had to grin to himself.

"What?" questioned Ron.

"Why am I surprised that the first thing Hermione looks at is the books?"

"Okay, Harry, spill. You just apparated us into… obviously your trunk. When did you learn? And where did you get this… this trunk?" questioned Hermione.

"I learned it in what would have been my sixth year, like everyone else."

"But Harry—"

"I am not the same Harry Potter who set off the night of the third task. That innocent boy of 14 died a long time ago. The story of how that all came to be is quite a tale, if you'll let me explain."

"So you mean to tell me, you're actually 11 years from the future?" questioned Ron, setting his tea down. It had been a brief explanation, Harry deciding not to go into too much detail, but touch on the main timeline.

"Exactly that."

"Harry?" Harry looked up to see Cedric in the doorway. "Did you guys have supper already?"

"No, but I would guess it's about ready."

"Ron, Hermione, good to see you both again," said Cedric, taking a seat beside Harry.

"Harry, you do realize anything that's happened to you then is a moot point now," Hermione pointed out, "You've already made such a significant change."

"I know that. But it's something I'm willing to live with, if it gives us a hope of a better future. I missed you guys so much over the past few years. Never mind how much I missed Cedric, or… well…"

"You know, it WOULD have been nice had someone bothered to wake me up." Harry looked up again to see Malachai standing in the doorway. Ron did a double-take, seeing his ginger hair, momentarily thinking it was his much older brother.

"Err, sorry about that, got distracted," answered Harry, indicating the spare seat beside him.

"And you are?" questioned Hermione, looking the boy over.

"Malachai."

"Hermione," she answered, "Hermione Granger. And this is Ron Weasley."

"You related to Fred and George?"

"You've met the twins?" questioned Ron, at which Malachai nodded, taking a seat beside Harry.

"Why do I get the feeling this means another story?" questioned Ron, at which Harry grinned again, saying, "Yes, definitely another story, and it explains where I disappeared to for 4 days." Unfortunately that was not to be, as Kreacher popped in, announcing, "Supper is ready, master Harry."

"Thanks, Kreacher." The elf bowed and popped away. "Coming?"

As everyone tucked in for supper, Harry had to grin silently to himself. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts, without some of the pressures that came with it. In the trunk, there was no reason to watch his back, with no one but friends present. At that moment, he had his two best friends, one who was rapidly rising to that position, his godfather, and his hopefully future husband around him.

"Dad says the ministry's somewhat divided on what happened at Sirius' trial," said Ron, between bites, "There are those speaking out against it, calling it a complete load of codswallop, while others are applauding the minister. It's a complete joke."

"The public will likely—"

"Side with the official ministry report," said Sirius, cutting across Harry, "Don't think for a minute the sentiment follows what happens internally at the ministry."

"Of course, you're right," said Harry, as he thought about it. Indeed, no matter what was happening around the water cooler, there was an official ministry record of events. That's what the public would hear.

"I'll make sure the public hears the true story, one way or another," said Harry, "I need you out there in public, not trapped in my trunk—not that I don't mind you being here, and…"

"I get what you mean all too well, Harry."

"I may need your assistance as head of house anyway, dealing with Lestrange. You can get a marriage annulled, right?"

"Yes, of course, but why would you want to do that?"

"To piss her off," answered Harry, "Although she is still in Azkaban. Shit, that won't work. I need something she's got in her vault… another Horcrux," said Harry, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"Certainly won't do to try and break into Gringotts a second time," said Ron, uneasily.

"No, it's definitely something I don't want to repeat."

"Well, you should speak to Agusta Longbottom. Persuade her to take financial action against the Lestranges for pain and suffering. If successful, she could seize their vault, and if you explain what you need, she'll likely accommodate you."

"Sounds like a plan."

"I still can't believe we broke into Gringotts," said Ron, "Never mind us escaping on the back of a dragon." He swallowed hard.

"You and me alike, mate," Harry agreed.

"A… dragon?" Malachai managed.

"Yes… scaly, big teeth, flies, breaths fire. I faced one last year during the tri-wizard tournament."

"And did an admirable job, put the rest of us to shame," said Cedric, "Got away without so much as a scratch."

"Um, is it, well, 'normal' for dragons to be around?"

"Not exactly," answered Harry.

"My brother works at a preserve in Romania," said Ron, "They look after dragons there."

"So we won't be expecting one any time soon."

"No, you shouldn't," answered Sirius, "It's not exactly an every day thing, moving a dragon about. Lots of precautions and so on. Muggle repelling charms and the like."

"Right."

Once supper was over and done with, the conversation moved back into the study. Hermione was still quite concerned about what Harry had been up to, but was easily placated by the fact Sirius was there. She was equally impressed by the complexity of the trunk.

"Of course," Harry noted, "I'm already starting to feel a bit of a squeeze as far as expansion. There are limits to how far I can push it. I'll probably get a few more rooms in, and that'll be it."

"You mean there are limits to magic?" questioned Malachai.

"Of course there are!" answered Hermione, "I'm surprised Harry's been able to push things here as far as he has even. The 'expandability' of something of course depends on what it's made of and so on. But yes, there are limits and rules, just like in science." Malachai nodded in understanding, then asked, "So how will you get around the limit?"

"He can buy another trunk," said Hermione, "Get one that's larger. I might suggest shrinking both trunks down and sticking the two of them together."

"Hermione, that's brilliant," Harry grinned, "It'll act like one piece! Double the space. Once again she proves she IS the smartest witch in our year." That earned him a swat across the arm for his efforts, for which Harry stuck out his tongue.

"Oh that's so mature," said Hermione, rolling her eyes.

"Right. So what's your story?" questioned Ron, gesturing at Malachai.

"True, it is only fair," answered the ginger-haired boy, "Although I don't know how much the two of you will like me after what I have to tell."

"Although I should begin," said Harry, "We met by accident, quite literally. I'm still not even sure how I got there, but it was as if I was apparated, then thrown to the ground. I came to, and found myself on top of… err… well… long story short, both of us were hurt from the collision, although Malachai got the worst of it. Had I not worked quickly, he would've died on the floor of the common room."

"You brought a stranger into the trunk? Harry—"

"I did what I thought was right. Looking back, I'm more than thankful I did. I gained a few new friends."

"A few? Harry, you've got a classroom full of children, mate."

"Yes and it's something I would do over if I had to. They've lived a nightmare for the past three years."

"I guess that's where I take over," said Malachai, and so began the tale of the 'boy-preacher', and the 'Children of the Corn'. Harry filled in details as he needed to when the boy began explaining the last few days.

"A demon possessing all the children in a town? Blimey!" said Ron, when Malachai finished.

"What I thought, too," said Harry, "I mean, he fought off a calming draught and a cheering charm."

"So that's what you did to me after you gave me the calming draught," Malachai guessed.

"Yeah. It's meant to brighten a person's mood. You needed it at the time."

"Guess I did… but you already know what was happening to me."

"I'm surprised the 'finite incantatem' actually worked," said Hermione, "By what you described to me, that was extremely dark magic."

"Oh, trust me, it was," said Harry, "It's something that might have actually scared Voldemort. It was a very dark entity, something I had the displeasure of actually speaking with, as I mentioned. I gave it my best go, but had to leave it for someone with more experience. I'm pretty sure the local Auror department will investigate and deal with it properly."

"That's leaving a lot to chance, Harry," said Hermione, "What would people say if you did that with… with Voldemort?"

"Well, that's something that's not gonna happen. I'm destined to deal with him. The demon in Nebraska was not something I'm meant to deal with. The kids caught up in it, on the other hand, I most certainly felt a strong obligation to help. Like I said, I'm glad I did."

"They'll all need mind healers," said Hermione, "They've all committed or witnessed parricide at a minimum. But you're right in helping. The Muggle police would have no clue how to handle this."

"My thoughts exactly. Most of the older kids would have been arrested, even though it's really not their fault. I keep reminding Malachai of that."

"Something I keep trying to tell myself. I feel… tainted… dirty."

"Killing someone does that," said Harry, "I know it all too well. It will go away eventually, at least so I'm told. But like I said, forgiveness begins with yourself. And remember. It. Was. NOT. Your. Fault. I know all too well what it feels like to have someone else in my head, trying to control me."

"Voldemort?"

"Yes, Voldemort. It doesn't help with this cursed link, although now it would be much harder for him to get in, now that I'm a pretty strong Occlumens. Both of you will have to learn it as well… and Cedric. If you want to know all my secrets, you have to learn it. A wizard's oath only goes so far." He extended an index finger, speaking, "Tempus." '8:40 pm' wafted from the end. "Guys, it is getting a bit late, I don't want to get in trouble with your mum, Ron."

"Yeah, probably best to get back to… err… well… you know."

"So you have a floo address, I gather," said Hermione.

"Yeah, just 'Harry Potter's trunk'," said Harry. Hermione furrowed her brows at the address. "You need to come up with something a little more original, Harry."

"Well…" Harry smirked, then said, "Since most of the kids here are former children of the corn… and Sirius is from… the Order of the Phoenix… how about… the Order of the Corn?" Ron only rolled his eyes, while Malachai burst out laughing.

"C'mon, my ideas only get worse from there," Harry mock-warned, "I mean, I could go with the 'Order of the Corn-Serpent… Order of the Snake… the Snake Den—I'm sure Dumbledore would love that one…"

"Okay, okay, you make your point, Harry," said Hermione, in mock defeat.

"Great… I'll be right back, then." The small group watched the raven-haired boy leave the study.

"Malachai… I warn you. If you ever hurt him in any way, shape, or form—" Ron began.

"I won't, not ever," answered Malachai, raising both hands, "He saved my life in more ways than one. He saved all of us, although I question whether I deserved it."

"Get off it mate, he likes you a lot, I can see that right quick," said Ron, "I think if he'd not already claimed Cedric… well."

"Uh huh." Malachai shifted uncomfortably on the couch, feeling his face get rather hot.

"You'd definitely pass for a brother, mate," Ron grinned, seeing the older boy's face flush.

"I don't think that's stopping Harry all that much," said Cedric, "He's let carrot top here sleep in our bed the past few nights."

"Oh really?" Both Ron and Hermione looked surprised.

"Thanks for spreading that around, really appreciate it," Malachai spoke, glaring at Cedric, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Oh, never mind what happened last night—" Harry began, stepping into the room.

"Another word and I'll cut your balls off," Malachai declared. His face was right serious, but Harry caught a glint in the boy's eye. He was kidding.

"Right, fine, then. Enough talk about my love life as it is," Harry decided, "Okay. New address for the trunk: Order of the Corn headquarters. It'll raise a few eyebrows I'm sure, but what the hell? I'll also need to floo professor Snape and let him know—"

"Why does HE have to know?" Ron demanded.

"Because we've declared a sort of truce outside of class," answered Harry, "There's stuff you don't know about him that if you did, you might think better of him."

"Harry, how can you say that? He's been nothing but nasty toward the three of us!" said Hermione, shocked.

"I know, but there are some very good reasons. I'll ask him to not be so nasty, but no promises. He's got a job to do just like I have mine." He summoned a page of parchment and a pen, scribbled out a quick note, then folded it into an airplane. "The ministry delivers inter-office mail this way," Harry explained, "I'll be back."

Kneeling in front of the fireplace in the common room, Harry drew out a pinch of floo powder, dropped it into the fireplace, then called out, "Fire call Hogwarts, Severus Snape's office!" This time, rather than sticking his face into the fire, he plunged his hand into the fire, and flung the paper airplane out of the grate.

Snape happened to look up from his desk from which he was compiling the upcoming year's book list, when a paper airplane sailed out of the suddenly green flames, shooting straight at him. It landed neatly on the desk, and unfolded itself.

_Professor,_

_The trunk address has changed. You may now call us at 'Order of the Corn Headquarters'. It was suggested I change it, since my address before was perhaps a little too easy to guess._

_Harry_

Snape incinerated the short note, then had to smirk, seeing the play on words. The brat had a load of wit, that was for sure. He debated about making a late night visit, but decided against it. One visit that day was enough, having to sit with Black in the same room for several hours had been icy at best as it was. He would visit tomorrow, then.


	14. Secrets Revealed

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __kehlencrow, and njferrell__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: coarse language._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry meets up with Bill once again, and reveals his true appearance, to the shock of the others; Dumbledore finally catches on to Harry's secret; another Horcrux is hunted; Harry, Bill, and Cedric have an inappropriate conversation at supper; Malachai has some very strange thoughts about the boy who saved his life…_

_

* * *

_

**14:SECRETS REVEALED  
Or, Harry's secrets don't remain secrets for long**

It was July 14. Both Ron and Hermione were spending virtually every day at Harry's trunk at this point, leaving early in the morning, before the rest of Grimmauld Place was up and about, and not returning until late at night. Most of the adults there were certainly questioning what they were up to, but both assured them they were spending time with Harry.

On this particular morning, however, as the two of them left, Molly happened to step into the kitchen as Hermione spoke the floo address. 'Order of the Corn? Where in Merlin's name is that?' the Weasley matriarch thought to herself. She would mention it to Dumbledore next time he showed up.

They arrived just as Harry, Cedric, and Malachai were getting ready to head out. Harry planned on first visiting Gringotts, then spending a pile of money on some new clothes for both him and his new friend. Transfigured clothing only went so far, after all. Hermione had all but insisted she be allowed to join them, but Harry was equally insistent they didn't. He suggested they work with Sirius finishing the study, which Hermione was more than eager to on that suggestion.

Just before 10 o'clock, the three boys used the floo to travel to the Leaky Cauldron, after Harry applied a glamour charm. It still wouldn't do for people to see him out and about. He knew Dumbledore was already going to give him hell about his last unplanned visit to Grimmauld Place—he was in the process of doing that when Harry disappeared.

Giving Tom the barkeep a wave, the three of them entered the small courtyard, where Cedric used his wand to open the wall. Malachai was amazed as the bricks seemed to part, forming a doorway.

"C'mon, this way," said Harry, and they made a bee line for the white marble building that was Gringotts.

Before visiting his vault, Harry had one other piece of business to attend to in the bank.

"I require the services of a certain curse-breaker and warder," said Harry, to the teller.

"And who might that be?"

"Bill Weasley."

"Ah. Let me see," said the goblin, flipping through a stack of parchment, "I'm afraid he's still in Egypt."

"I will pay him well. Besides, he actually knows me somewhat."

"And why would you be calling on him when we have a number of curse-breakers and warders already here?"

"Because he has knowledge of an Egyptian warding spell," Harry explained. The goblin nodded. "I will call for him, then. Do beware, his services do not come cheap."

"I have no doubt."

"Anything further I can do for you?"

"I'd like to visit my vault, if you please."

The ride down to the vault was just as wild as usual; Harry had Malachai and Cedric wait in the cart while he quickly gathered a bag full of coins.

On return to the surface, Harry was surprised to find another red-head waiting for him.

"Bill! They didn't waste any time," Harry grinned. The eldest Weasley boy looked a little startled at the familiarity. Harry saw the confusion, and dispelled the glamour, getting a strange look from the goblin who'd took them down to his vault.

"I didn't realize it was you who requested my services. What can I do for you, Harry?"

"I need a particularly strong ward placed on a chest."

"What sort of ward?"

"The Egyptian kind," answered Harry, "You know which one I mean. It's better we talk about this elsewhere, the, err… details are not something I want to talk about in public, if you get what I mean." Harry brushed the hair off his forehead, revealing his infamous scar.

"Right," said Bill, with a nod, "Where to, then?"

"Just come with us, I'll explain once we get there," said Harry. This definitely put an abrupt end to his plans for the day. He was fighting to keep his mind off his future relations with the guy, and only barely succeeding.

After exchanging about half the coins in his bag for Muggle currency, the group, now larger by one, returned to the Leaky Cauldron, after restoring the glamour.

"Okay, the floo address is 'Order of the Corn headquarters'," said Harry as they stepped up to the fireplace—that got a strange look from Bill. He tossed a galleon into the donation jar, grabbed a fistful of floo powder, tossed it into the grate, then spoke clearly, "Order of the Corn headquarters!" He then grabbed Malachai by his shirt sleeve, and pulled him through the green flames. Seeing Cedric do the same, Bill only sighed, resigned to whatever fate was in store, and quickly followed.

He was surprised at the room he stepped into. Whoever did the work was very skilled. He could feel the amount of magic put into the space, and it reeked of a powerful wizard or witch.

"Like it?" Harry was standing by a drawing table, looking at a large parchment that took up most of it.

"Where are we?"

"Unofficially, we're at my aunt's place. You know, protections and the like. Officially, this is my trunk, which sits in my bedroom," answered Harry.

"Gods, you did this yourself?"

"Well, most of it. But Cedric did help with some of it. Hey, why weren't you called back to London… to help with the Order?"

"I didn't receive any such notice. Harry, what's going on?"

"Another lengthy explanation is in store. Come with me, where it's more comfortable."

As they got to the library and study, Harry whispered something in Cedric's ear, then took Bill by surprise, grabbing him by the his tee-shirt, pulling him down so his face was level with his own, and locked lips on his.

A book falling to the floor with a loud SMACK brought them both back up for air.

"Err…" Bill began, while Harry only stood there, smirking. Both Hermione and Ron stood off by one of the floor shelves, both shocked at what they had just seen.

"I've waited three years to do that again," said Harry, still smirking, indicating one of the couches. His head still clouded by what had just happened, Bill plopped down heavily. "What the hell was that?!" he managed.

"That's what I call a proper greeting," answered Harry, with a grin, taking a seat opposite him, Cedric and Malachai taking seats on either side of him.

"If you just brought me here to snog, so help me—"

"No, course not!" answered Harry, a little put out on the suggestion, "I know you're busy. And I really do need your help. But I also really wanted to see you. I promise to cover any lost wages because of me."

"All right—Ron, what are you doing here?" Bill questioned, at last noticing his youngest brother.

"Helping Harry, of course. I thought you were in Egypt."

"I was, until I got an urgent notice from Gringotts, to 'return at once, a high-profile client requires your services'."

"Yeah, sorry again for pulling you away from whatever you were doing. But this is important. You know what a Horcrux is?"

"A—Harry, how do you know about such dark magic?" questioned Bill, uneasily.

"Voldemort made seven of them. One of which I've already destroyed, back in my second year. The rest of them, I know where to find them, and I know how to destroy them."

"Harry?" Harry looked up to see Snape standing at the doorway.

"Professor."

"Where might I find your parents' portrait?"

"In my room, sir. Last door on the right." Snape nodded, and left the room.

"What's professor Snape doing here?"

"Visiting with my parents' portrait," answered Harry, "It was in the family vault. We've come to a bit of an understanding."

"Right. Back to Horcruxes. I gather that's why you need my warding skills."

"Yes. Specifically the Egyptian dark magic ward."

"Most appropriate. You'll need a container, although by what I gather, you already know that."

"I do, considering it was you who did it the first time around."

"First time around? That makes no sense."

"It will. Let me try something," said Harry, standing. He gestured with his hand at himself, and he began to change. Gone was the boy of 15, and in his place, stood a man who looked to be going into his 30's. His green eyes and raven hair were still unmistakable, although the hair was long and stringy, but the face had changed. The face of someone who had been through hell, was the best way to put it, as it was marked by a number of scars, not including his infamous lightning bolt scar linking him with Voldemort. Someone who had long ago lost his innocence in the fire of war. His body equally, bore a number of scars, but only a few of those were visible.

"This is my true appearance," spoke the boy become man, "I will turn 27 on the 31st, rather than 15."

"Bloody hell, Harry," spoke Ron, while Hermione only stared, open-mouthed. "If… if you had not explained to us… Merlin!" she finally managed.

"I know. I look of fright. Luckily, this body did not travel back with me. Unfortunately, my mind did. I'm not who you think I am. That Harry Potter died a long time ago."

"No, he didn't!" Hermione protested, "You can't think that way, or V-v-voldemort will have already won."

"No, he won't ever win. I defeated him once, I'll do it again. I swear on everything holy, he won't ever win, nor will he take away those who mean so much to me." He sat back down, blowing out a long breath.

"Harry, what happened to you?" questioned Bill, uneasily, "And why the FUCK did you just snog me senseless?"

"Yeah, something I'd like to know, too," said Ron.

"Quite simple. Bill and I were, well… an item for a time."

"WHAT?" three voices chorused in shock.

"That will have to wait, but let me start at the beginning… see, in the summer before my fifth year, I was attacked by Dementors…"

Lunch had come and gone by the time Harry finished his explanation, which had further enlightened his best friends as well. There had been things he did not disclose, seeing no need.

"Well, if anything, you've not wasted any time making changes," said Bill, "Preventing Voldemort from regaining his body… you just need to destroy the Horcruxes, then. Have you thought about how you're going to get rid of the one in your scar?"

"Somewhat. I'll likely do it the same way as last time, if I can get Fawkes to donate some tears. I've already got basilisk venom."

"That's the one I would get rid of first. How's Voldemort surviving now?"

"He was in this 'baby' form, and I'll tell you, it's no earthly baby. Demon baby, maybe, but… a very weak existence."

"It will have to be destroyed too."

"Yeah, I rather expected that. It will mean tracking down Pettigrew—he's the one looking after it."

"But Harry, no matter what you'll have to find them. Nagini is also a Horcrux, isn't she?" Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah, of course you're right. It'll be three birds with one stone, then."

"And you'll need some help collecting the remaining Horcruxes," Bill noted. Harry nodded. "The first time around, I would have said absolutely not. But I know better now. I'd like both you and Cedric to come along. I already know what kind of dangers we will face at the Gaunt shack and the cave, but having people watching my back will do no harm."

"And what about us, Harry?" questioned Hermione.

"Help spread misinformation as to what I'm really up to. I'd rather Dumbledore not know what's happening here, at least not yet. And Bill, I mean it when I say I'll cover any lost pay."

"Harry. Don't think anything of it. Gods, I still can't believe we… well… had a relationship. You do know Miss Delecour and I are, well—"

"Dating? She doesn't know you very well, does she?" That got a blush from the eldest Weasley. "See? There's that cute blush I missed so much," Harry grinned.

"But Harry, you're already spoken for, by someone well—"

"What, more appropriate? Bill, LOOK at me. Do I look like a 15 year old? I don't care about the body I've inherited. When I look at myself in the mirror, this is the face I see. Nothing will ever change that."

"Not to mention, well… if Harry wants you with us…" said Cedric, although a little uncomfortably, "I can live with that."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement, Cedric," said Bill, "That can't ever work—"

"The pair I met a while after we… well… no, but… well… they took me in and the three of us were quite happy for quite some time… so don't tell me it can't."

"But mate, do you realize how ludicrous that sounds?" Ron challenged. Harry only grinned, saying, "I know, and I like it that way. I've come to the point where I really don't give a flying FUCK about what the press wants to say about me. I've lived long enough to grow a thick skin to protect against Skeeter's poison pen. Although I will deal with her when the time comes. Spewing poisonous lies about me is one thing, but spewing lies about my friends is quite something else. She's already started on Dumbledore, and I won't put up with it this time around.

"Unfortunately, I also need her right now. I just sent out a most interesting letter to her about our esteemed minister's dealings with Lucius Malfoy, among other things. Tomorrow's paper should be quite the read, and hopefully she'll back off of Dumbledore."

"If she buys what you tell her," Hermione reminded, "It would be your word against Malfoy's, and think about it, he does have a rather clean public image, no matter how dark he truly is."

"I'll work to tarnish that image quite quickly," answered Harry, "And Skeeter will likely run with it, knowing how she is about getting dirt on someone. Particularly on someone as high-profile as Malfoy." Harry gestured at the foot table between the couches with his hand, conjuring up a pitcher of pumpkin juice and some snacks.

"So how often do you need your wand?" questioned Bill, staring at the freshly conjured items, while Ron wasted no time picking a few sweets for himself.

"Most simple stuff I can do wandlessly. But when it comes to really complicated stuff, such as a Patronus charm, let's say… I still need my wand."

"Where do you think you're at, as far as skill level?" questioned Hermione.

"Well above NEWT level now, I guess. I mean, I really didn't finish school. Dumbledore did his best to teach me things himself, until the end of 6th year, when he was killed. Then I was pretty much on my own. But I had to learn, and learn I did. Lots of nights spent sneaking into the Hogwarts library. Or stealing knowledge from Death Eaters. Didn't like the other memories that came with that, though."

"You're a legilimens as well?" asked Bill. Harry nodded, saying, "That was a dire need. Learned that in what would have been my 7th year. Ron and Hermione did too."

"We did?" mumbled Ron, his mouth full. That got a swat from Hermione, and a grin from Harry. As much as he hated to admit it, he had missed the bickering between his two best friends.

"So Bill," said Ron, making sure this time to speak without food in his mouth and avoid a swat from Hermione, "You going to be staying with Harry now?"

"So it appears, if that's what Harry wants. I don't want to, err… well—"

"Of course he's staying!" said Harry, "Speaking of which, we'll need to add another room. I can probably push the expansion charm a little further, but I'll need to look into Hermione's suggestion of purchasing a second trunk."

Just then, Seth stepped into the study, looking rather unsettled. "Harry, there's… um… well… a person's head in the fireplace. He's demanding to see you."

"Great. Did you guys tell anyone the floo address?" questioned Harry. Both his friends shook their heads. "I'll be right back."

Harry mentally groaned, as he stepped into the common room. As was feared, the face of Albus Dumbledore was looking at him in the fire.

"'afternoon, professor."

"You will explain yourself, Harry. Where are you? And why can't I come through?"

"For my safety, sir," answered Harry, "But since you now sort of know, I'll let you through." He gestured at the floo, speaking, "Addendum, Albus Dumbledore." The fireplace glowed green for a moment. "Okay, you can step through."

Moments later, the ancient wizard stepped gracefully out of the fireplace to take in his surroundings. "Where are we, Harry? Why aren't you at your relatives' place?"

"Actually, sir, we are. If you go through the doorway over there—" Harry gestured to the doorway leading to the entry hall, "—That leads to a ladder. We're in my new trunk."

"Indeed?"

"Sir, I apologize for the deception, but—"

"So it seems, Harry," Dumbledore said, appraising the man in front of him. He still recognized the boy, but no, this was no longer a boy. "What has happened to you? It looks like you've aged years."

"And you would be spot on. May I share some memories with you? You have permission to peer into my mind," said Harry, causing the old wizard to arch an eyebrow. How did Harry know about his Legilimency skill? He nodded, and gently entered the boy—no, man's mind.

A few minutes later, Harry had to lead the headmaster to one of the couches, as it appeared he was in a state of shock.

"This all happened?" he questioned.

"Every scarp of it, professor. I swear on my magic, it is all true. I came back on the whim of fate, I guess. But I'm not looking a gift-horse in the mouth. If I can prevent even a FRACTION of the misery Voldemort caused, then all the better."

"Why did you not explain all this to me before?"

"Because I know you, sir. Perhaps too well. You want to protect me, but sir, I can protect myself. I've been doing it for well over half my life now. I'll be 27 at the end of the month, rather than 15, like I just said to Ron and Hermione. I could probably sit my NEWTs and pass every one of them—"

"Headmaster." Both wizards turned to see Snape step from the corridor into the common room.

"Severus?"

"Indeed. Potter's giving you the details, I assume?"

"Indeed he is, Severus. For how long have you known about this?" questioned Dumbledore.

"About 4 days. I took a wizard's oath not to disclose any details about what Potter was doing here."

"His previous life is the nightmare we are all trying to prevent," spoke Dumbledore, seeming to have aged several years.

"Sir, I have to warn you about Umbridge," said Harry, "The woman's absolutely cruel. The ministry will likely have her teach Dark Arts Defence the coming year."

"Cruel in what way?"

"She tortured half the school with a blood quill," answered Harry, "Since I wasn't a student and she never actually saw me, I wasn't, but… she used it on Dennis Creevy. I think that speaks volumes."

"That it does, Harry."

"Maybe the ministry needs to raid her house. If she's got a blood quill, who knows what other dark objects might be lurking."

"Headmaster, Potter, I do need to return to my quarters," said Snape. Harry nodded, while Dumbledore said, "We will meet later, then." Snape inclined his head, then used the floo to return to Hogwarts.

"I am glad you and professor Snape seem to be getting along better."

"I need him, just as much as I need you, sir," said Harry, "I know the oath he swore to protect me, and as I said to him, I appreciate that. I already owe him enough as it is, and I'm quite willing to pay if he were ever to ask."

"Harry? What's—Oh, Professor Dumbledore," said Bill, stepping into the common room.

"Mr. Weasley. Good to see you again."

"Professor, we're meeting in the study."

"I must say, I am rather impressed with the work you've done here," Dumbledore praised, after they were properly seated. Harry had wasted no time conjuring up a conference table and chairs, around which they all then sat.

"Well, most of it is my work, but I have had some help. I'm a strong wizard, but, I appreciate help when I can get it. Like I said to these guys earlier, I realized a little too late that I need to sometimes accept help when it's offered."

"Very true, Harry. Very true." Dumbledore was still appraising the third red-head that sat at the table. A gentle probe of the mind gave the aged wizard a very nasty shock: the boy was a killer?! Harry could already see the potential danger mounting. "Professor, this is Malachai. Before you judge, you need to see what happened. Have a look at a few more of my memories."

This time, as Dumbledore probed Harry's mind, he was shown the events of the past 4 days: his encounter with Malachai, the confrontations in the corn, his battle with the demon, their abduction by the children, unforgivables?!, and their leaving with the corn field ablaze with feindfyre.

"Harry… I truly worry…"

"I used unforgivables, I know. It wasn't done lightly, trust me. But again, I lost my innocence a long time ago. What was done to us was drastic, and I reacted in a drastic way."

Dumbledore leaned back in the chair, seeming to mull things over. This boy in front of him was definitely no boy. As much as the wizard hated to admit, he would not be easily manipulated any further. He had returned from a not-so-distant future, bringing with him knowledge of that future. Knowledge he would use as a weapon against the dark forces currently mounting in the present. He was overly cautious, and very secretive, but for very good reasons. The headmaster knew exactly what needed to be done. "What will you need from me?"

"Whatever you can offer, sir. The first time around, you did teach me a lot, even though I had been expelled. You helped me to stay in the castle, I mean, I could list hundreds of small things you did, to make sure I had the knowledge to face Riddle in the end. I wouldn't be half the wizard I am today without you."

"You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you, Harry. Although my door always remains open to any former student, I can't stress it enough for you. Now I do have to wonder, what are your plans for September?"

"Well, I am still 'technically' 15. I could easily return for my 5th year of school, although I would be there more to protect my friends and peers against those who have not-so-great intentions. I also have a few Slytherins to pull away from the dark side. I also would rather things not get out as to what I'm truly capable of."

"And you would be bringing this trunk with you?"

"Yes sir. As you already saw, not just anyone can get into it if they're not supposed to be here."

"What about just climbing in if the lid's open?" questioned Malachai.

"That's why the lid's usually shut. I mean, I could ward it too against unauthorized access, but that might make things even more awkward. But the nutshell is, this place is pretty tight, security-wise."

"Harry, I am relieved you are doing well here, although your appearance does somewhat disturb me," said Dumbledore, "When last I saw you, you still looked a boy."

"I changed it this afternoon, to show Bill, among others, what I truly look like." Harry gestured at himself again with his hand, restoring his younger appearance.

"A glamour?"

"Modified. That one's special, since it can't be reversed. It's how I still see myself when I look in the mirror. It's how I feel. If anything, how I look now is a glamour, not the other way around."

"Understandable. But it would not do for you to show up looking like a grown adult, now, would it?"

"No sir, it wouldn't," said Harry, again changing his appearance. "But in here, this is who I am. I can't pretend anymore, it just doesn't feel right."

"Even so, you do need to be careful using your wand. According to the ministry, you're still an under-aged wizard."

"He could apply for emancipation," Bill suggested.

"Gringotts has already let me have access to my parents' vault as it is, I thought that would've extended to the ministry."

"The ministry has never trusted Gringotts, Harry," Bill reminded, "Remember the opinion our government has on goblins, among other beast races."

"Very true," said Harry, "But emancipation sounds like a good idea. I mean, like I've said a few times today. I'm pretty good at a lot of things wandlessly, but things more complex, I still need my wand."

"That would need cooperation between your relatives, and your magical guardian," said Dumbledore.

"And who is my magical guardian?"

"I would be," said Dumbledore.

"Would you be willing to do it? If I can get Petunia to agree?"

"I think I can agree to it, Harry. I do ask you exercise caution, using your wand in public. You are under the microscope, although I really don't need to tell you that."

"No sir. But it will help when things arise where I do need to use my wand. I'd rather not have the ministry breathing down my neck, when I know they're already looking for an excuse as it is."

"Yes, indeed, I did see your comments during Sirius' trial. Very bold words."

"And I meant every one of them. I'm gonna roast Fudge over an open fire for what he did to Sirius."

"No wonder my ears were burning." Harry looked up to see Sirius step into the study. "Professor. Glad to see Harry's invited you here at last."

"I did wonder where you disappeared to," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling madly, "You continue to surprise me, Harry."

"Well, it's somewhere the ministry will never think to look, right? Besides, this way I can see my godfather almost whenever I like."

"Considering your trunk doesn't violate any school rules. Nor does it circumvent the protections on your relatives' house. I do have to say you're certainly exercising your Slytherin side as of late, Harry."

"Sirius, where were you?"

"Teaching, of course. The kids need someone to teach them, right?"

"Yeah, pranks, most likely," Harry grinned.

"Well, some of this and some of that."

"Of course. If the trunk blows up for some reason, I'll know who to blame. Right, back to seriousness. I think the next thing is to deal with the remaining Horcruxes. I need a few people to come with me on this. Bill and Cedric."

"I will join you, if you will have me, Harry," offered Dumbledore. Harry nodded and said, "The Gaunt house is where we're going, then. I'll need one of you to keep an eye on my map for unexpected company. The rest of us will deal with the traps on the ring if there are any."

"You aren't wasting any time at all, then?"

"No sir. I have two of the Horcruxes already. See, if we can get rid of all the Horcruxes, Voldemort will be much easier to get rid of once and for all. But of course, you already knew that."

"I had a suspicion. Back in your second year, when you destroyed Tom's diary."

"I've got Slytherin's locket, and Ravenclaw's diadem."

"Then it was you who visited the school a week ago," said Dumbledore.

"Sorry. But at the time, I wasn't ready to share any of this with you. I mean, even today, I wasn't quite ready, not knowing how you would react. I'm glad you're not going all protective on me. That won't work anymore. What I need are strong allies. That's what I hope you will be."

"That's exactly what I will do, Harry. the future you paint is most certainly not a bright one. I need not remind you Professor McGonagall will be quick to side with you as well."

"Oh. Thanks for the reminder. I'll add her to the floo as well, just before we go. You guys are welcome here, just like Snape is."

"That's professor Snape, Harry."

"Right, sorry," Harry grinned. Then, seriously, "All right, let's go." He snatched up the map from the table. "Come on, all of you grab my arm." Dumbledore was surprised, but as he took Harry's arm, he realized, 'of course he would know how to do so.'

They landed softly just outside of a small shack that lay in the shadow of a large manor.

"You recognize it, sir?"

"I'm afraid I don't," answered Dumbledore, as the group spread out.

"Tom Riddle's mother lived here. Merope Gaunt. You showed me the memory during my sixth year," said Harry, "But… you haven't visited Ogden yet, I guess." The headmaster shook his head. It was slightly frustrating, following, rather than leading.

"I can feel a few detection wards," said Bill, "But nothing overtly threatening."

"No, I wouldn't think so. The trap's on the ring itself, as Dumbledore found out when he put it on the first time around. Which is why you ordered Snape to kill you." Dumbledore was shocked yet again. "Snape shared memories of his discussion with you."

"How do we deal with the ring, then?" questioned Cedric.

"By not touching it physically. Let's see…" Harry gestured with his hand, conjuring up a small box. "This should do it. Cedric, stay here with the map. Bill, professor, we'll look for the ring."

The inside of the shack was every bit as nasty as Harry remembered seeing it in Dumbledore's pensieve the first time around. Nothing human had lived there in recent memory, and likely the last visitor had been Voldemort. Bill was gesturing at various items with his wand, poking and prodding, looking for anything that might pose a threat. Dumbledore seemed to be doing something similar.

"Ah. Harry, I think this might be what you're looking for," the old wizard declared, gesturing at a small end table, making it rattle.

"Let me," said Harry, gesturing with his hand, carefully pulling the drawer open with his magic. Exactly as he had hoped, the small ring lay alone inside. The same ring he had saw years prior, the first time around, in Dumbledore's office. The ring was quickly levitated out of the drawer, then into the conjured box, and the lid closed. "That's it, then. Back outside."

Less than a half minute later, the group had returned to the trunk.

"Well, did you get it?" questioned Ron. Harry indicated the closed box. "I'll be needing that sealed box sooner rather than later, I think."

"If you'll conjure me up a decent sized box, I can do it now," offered Bill, while Cedric replaced the map on the table. Harry nodded, and gestured at the floor with his hand, creating a medium-sized crate. Bill set to work at once, laying on numerous wards and protections.

"I do need to return to my office, Harry," said Dumbledore. "I should tell you to be cautious, but I know you're already doing so. I also remind you, my office door is always open, as is my floo should you need anything."

"Likewise, you know where to find me, sir. Do say hello to professor McGonagall, maybe have her come visit me if she's got some time. I mean, I know what curiosity does to a cat, after all," Harry said with a smirk.

"Indeed, Harry, indeed," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling madly.

"I'll walk you to the floo, then."

When Harry returned, Bill had finished setting the wards and charms on the box, and so the ring was deposited first. Harry quickly retrieved the diadem and the locket, and those too were added to the box. 3 down, one more to recover. Nagini was special; she would have to be destroyed with Voldemort. Similar to the Horcrux which lay in his scar.

"All right, that's enough thinking about these dark things," Bill declared, "Harry, I quite imagine you've had more than enough of a dose of darkness to last a lifetime, judging by your appearance."

"You can say that again," said Harry, leaning back in his chair, "Thing is, we accomplished a couple of major things today, the most important of which being the recovery of a third Horcrux. Having Dumbledore on the same page is a bonus, I didn't expect to achieve that so quickly."

"He is an understanding man, Harry," spoke Bill.

"I guess. He's also overly protective, I could see it, he really had to fight not to say, 'you must be protected'."

"Considering the way you look. Harry, you look absolutely menacing," said Hermione, "Like someone I'd rather not meet in a dark alley."

"Good. That's exactly the persona I'd like to present. I'm through being nice about things. Oh, and that's something else I need to fix. My eyes. These glasses are a liability. Muggle contact lenses or something would be better for me, I think." He slipped off his glasses.

"You look strange without them, mate," said Ron.

"Get used to it. That'll be another stop tomorrow," Harry decided.

"Then do something about the hair, it looks hideous," said Hermione.

"Hideous? I rather like it," said Bill, "It better suits him instead of that unruly mop he had going earlier."

"All right. Anymore comments about my hair, Mr. Weasley, and I'll curse yours off." That drew a look of shock from Bill, hands flinching as though ready to protect his pony tail. "Hey, it was meant as a compliment, Mr. Potter!"

The playful banter was once again disturbed, as Kreacher announced supper was ready. The elf started at Harry's appearance for a moment, but then bowed and popped away. The group wasted no time filing into the dining room, where the head table had been enlarged a bit more. Kreacher had anticipated things exactly. The only thing was, as Harry realized, the group was getting so large he couldn't see everyone at once. The arrangement of the room would have to change. After all, this was definitely NOT Hogwarts.

This time, it was Bill who sat beside him rather than Malachai, with Cedric opposite. Harry's instincts were right on, and the eldest Weasley was having issues of his own when it came to Harry. And if Cedric was okay with it, things were going to get interesting.

"Harry, you are sure we can… you know," Bill prodded, while Cedric seemed to be preoccupied with Harry's longer hair.

"It would be the best birthday present ever… well… to have you both… um, well… you know this probably isn't proper conversation for the dinner table."

"You might have to make the bed bigger, though, Harry," said Cedric, amused, while he continued to play with Harry's hair, "I reckon we don't plan on tossing Malachai out anytime soon." That got a look from Bill. "Oh really?"

"Yeah, he's sort of moved in as a non-participating third party," Harry explained.

"But Harry's working on that," Cedric piped up, causing Malachai to choke on the forkful of food he'd just stuffed into his mouth.

"Potter *cough* and red-heads *cough*" came Sirius' comment from the far end of the table.

"So much for the mature adult role," Hermione muttered, blushing profusely. She could hear every word of this rather improper conversation at the supper table.

"Right. So Harry," Bill began, "How did you know about me… as in, well, how did you know I liked blokes?"

"Well, the first time around it was by accident. You were seeing Fleur Delacour quite heavily, the summer before what would have been my sixth year. Anyway, one night when I was staying at the Burrow, we sort of bumped into each other. You were totally smashed—I think you'd polished off at least a couple bottles of firewhiskey. So we got talking, and one thing led to another…"

"And Fleur caught us," Bill guessed. Harry nodded. "Yep, the entire Burrow heard her yelling. Your mum thought someone was about to be murdered, I think."

"I've liked both girls and blokes, long as I can remember. I've gone out with each, and well… each has their pros and cons, so to say."

"So would you like to… well?"

"Are you asking me to sleep with you?"

"Well…"

"Yes," spoke Cedric, his eyes seeming to dance with amusement, watching Harry get all flushed. He already knew at this point he would be the youngest in the trio—even Malachai was older than he was.

"I can't believe they're having this conversation," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"You and me alike, 'mione.(1)"

"What did you call me?"

"'mione—"

"Don't. EVER. Call. Me. That. Again," Hermione hissed.

"Right," Harry warned, "Listen to her, mate, last time I heard you say that she cursed your mouth off for an hour." He almost let out a yelp, as Cedric had reached down and gave his thigh a squeeze. He gave the offending hand a swat. "Hey!"

"If you wouldn't fondle me at the dining table—"

"Uhg!! Not another word from the three of you!" Hermione finally gasped, "Keep your hands to yourselves and…"

"Okay, then," said Harry, unsure of the source of this outburst on the part of his friend.

"Well, she is right," Cedric agreed, turning his attention back to his plate. Harry quickly followed suit, as did Bill, although the three of them continued to smirk throughout the remainder of the meal. It looked like they were all on the same page.

With the meal concluded, Harry bid Ron and Hermione a good night, as they took the floo back to Grimmauld Place. Then, Harry turned his attention once again to the bedroom, or more specifically, enlarging his bed for the third time. Certainly with the current size, 4 of them would easily fit, but he didn't want to encroach on Malachai. He was in some ways still not a hundred percent comfortable with Harry and Cedric's relationship. How was he to take this 'triangle' that was forming?

Several gestures from his hand, and the bed was changed yet again. It now had a separate level set about 8 inches below the rest of it, as a clear separation from the others. He'd debated about creating a bunk bed setting, but decided against it. This way, should Malachai ever decide to officially join them, the modifications wouldn't be difficult. The result was a queen plus twin configuration, although all of it was surrounded by red and gold curtains, similar to what would be found in the Gryffindor dormitory.

"Enlarging the bed yet again? Prongs Jr., the stud," said James, from the portrait.

"I know, ain't it great?" Harry grinned, "Love at first snog."

"Harry, are you planning on making a conquest of every boy you meet?" questioned Lily, sounding slightly put off, "How do you plan on loving two people at the same time?"

"Easy enough. Since I've loved both of them before. I missed Bill as much as I did Cedric. And if I can have them both, I'm in heaven. Score double points if they love each other as much as they love me, but that remains to be seen."

"Harry, who are you talking to?" questioned Bill, stepping into the room.

"My parents' portrait," answered Harry, "Come say hello."

"Ah, another Weasley, I presume," said Lily, "Molly always wanted a large number."

"And a large number she got. There are 7 of us. Myself, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny."

"One girl of the bunch? Oh the poor dear," said Lily, in mock-horror.

"Oh I assure you, she gives as well as she gets," said Bill, with a smirk.

"And I assume Harry's got you under his spell as he does Cedric," spoke James. Bill nodded.

"Isn't that awkward?"

"Not if they both agree to it, as strange as it sounds. The sex might actually be interesting, I'll say that." That got a swat from Harry.

"I would suggest you either cover us or close the curtains on the bed and erect silencing charms. I don't wish to see nor hear what you boys might be doing," said Lily.

"Mum, I'm probably gonna move your portrait back out to the common room anyway."

"I would suggest you get a few blank portraits. They can be spelled so we can use them," James suggested, "I assume you've set up rooms other than the common room."

"Yeah, the study and library, that's where we spent a good portion of the day."

"Yes, we heard Dumbledore. He's okay with your arrangement here?"

"Surprisingly supportive."

"That's good to hear, Harry."

"Yeah, it was something I was worried about. Anyway… I'm gonna move you guys out to the common room now."

Finally, the four of them settled into the newly expanded bed. Malachai in the end appreciated the separation while still retaining the closeness to Harry. He still didn't understand the draw he felt to the boy—or man, now he saw—but there was something making him desire to be close. What would kissing the other boy be like? To gaze into those green eyes while their lips locked tightly together… What would his mouth taste like? Sweet? Salty? Wait! Where were THOSE thoughts coming from? He shook his head slightly, laying down to stare at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, Bill had lay on his stomach, facing Harry, tracing over the number of scars that lined the boy's face. Each one, as he traced it, Harry was telling the story of where he got it, with Cedric still playing with his hair as he lay on his side, bumped up beside him, planting soft kisses on his shoulder. Absently, he thought about the two people who were so intimately close to him. His first loves, and all was right with the world, at least for now.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So now we see what Harry 'really' looks like, at least in his mind's eye. Remember, only his spirit came back along with his memories. Yet, this is how he sees himself, and he's powerful enough to force that on his body._

_The love triangle forming… keep in mind, Cedric and Harry are still the primary pairing here, but Bill comes in a close second, as Harry has already stated above. Can he love them equally? Can Bill and Cedric love each other as well as Harry? And what's with Malachai?_

_(1) I don't know where other authors came up with this, but I hate it, and I think Hermione would hate it too. So she sets the record straight right off the hop. The one and only place this will ever be used in this fiction._


	15. Malachai Demented

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __njferrell, and StoryTagger__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Situation spoiler for OotP, coarse language, violence._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry finds the Daily Prophet a rather interesting read; fallout from said articles in the paper force Dumbledore to do something rather drastic; Harry and Bill take Malachai shopping, resulting in a most unpleasant experience…_

_

* * *

  
_

**15:MALACHAI DEMENTED**

**Or, muggles and dementors do not mix**

As expected, the paper the following morning was an interesting read, to say the least. Rita Skeeter had taken Harry's letter and ran with it.

The large photo that took up a good portion of the paper that morning featured the minister of magic, looking rather out of sorts, being bombarded with questions in the atrium of the ministry of magic. A number of Aurors were keeping the press away, but it was not stopping the questions. The headline summed it up quite nicely.

INTEGRITY OF MINISTER CALLED INTO QUESTION; SHADY DEALINGS UNCOVERED by Rita Skeeter

_With the validity of the recent trial of Sirius Black being called into question, Cornelius Fudge's personal dealings with certain high-profile families are now being called into question, after this reporter received a rather startling lead from a concerned reader._

_It does seem our esteemed minister may not be as squeaky clean as we may have believed him to be, as my source—who will remain unnamed—has so clearly pointed out, calling into question some of the minister's recent political contributions. Further investigations indeed indicate many of those contributions have been from families that have in the past supported the dark side, and recently, He Who Must Not Be Named. My source has named the Malfoys at the top of the list, and an examination of recent contributions on the part of the Malfoy Patriarch, the picture does become clearer. Perhaps the minister himself sides with you know who, or is at least a sympathiser._

_After a short note to the Auror office, a search of the Malfoy residence turned up more than a few eye-openers, as a number of dark artefacts were removed. Both Lucius and Narcissa are now enjoying the confines of a holding cell at the ministry, while the minister's financial dealings are now being carefully examined—_

Harry had to stop reading, as Dumbledore stepped into the dining room. "Harry, I have a small problem—ah, and I see you have already saw the Prophet."

"Is it about the Malfoys?"

"I'm afraid it is. You are aware of the senior Malfoys' arrest yesterday?"

"I just got to that, sir."

"As you might understand already, with both parents being held by the ministry, that leaves—"

"Draco. But what do you want me to do about it? He's been—oh Merlin, don't even try asking that!" said Harry, already guessing where the headmaster was going.

"Harry, it's the only choice I have at this point. The other options are far worse, and with what may come out of the ministry investigation, his life will be in danger."

"Great, just great. My arch-rival coming into my trunk…" Harry snorted, flicking his hair out of his eyes. "This was… I really don't have time to deal with his dragon shit right now." He took a swig of pumpkin juice, then stood up. "Fine. Fate truly hates me, that's all there is to it. Where is he now?"

"My office."

"Let's go then."

"I'll come along as well," said Bill. He had been lurking at the door to the kitchen.

Harry fell out of the floo onto the headmaster's office floor, and had to scramble out of the way as Bill followed. The office was already occupied, with Snape and McGonagall present. Dumbledore had already slipped behind his desk, and Draco stood close to his head of house.

"Potter—" he sneered, then did a double-take, taking in the boy's changed appearance. "What happened to you?"

"Indeed, I have to ask the same question, Potter," said McGonagall, also rather shocked at one of her favourite student's abrupt change in appearance.

"Hell is what happened. Professor Dumbledore, may I borrow your pensieve? I only want to do this once. I'm really getting tired of explaining."

"Of course," said Dumbledore, gesturing to the cabinet to the side of the room with his wand. The pensieve floated out of it to land on the desk. Harry was already pulling out a lengthy stream of memories from his head using his left index finger, a motion not lost on those who did not know of Harry's story.

"I want everyone to stick a finger in and have a look. Malfoy, you too," said Harry, indicating the pensieve. He drew his wand from his waistband and held it in front of him, speaking, "I, Harry James Potter, swear on my magic that the contents held within this pensieve are accurate and true, so mote it be." Everyone watched the swirl of golden magic burrow itself into his chest, and vanish. "Proof… Lumos," spoke Harry, lighting the tip of his wand. "Nox. Just to be clear, I play no tricks here."

Everyone did as asked, although Draco was hesitant, and only did so after an almost order by Snape. Harry only took a seat in front of the desk, and waited, knowing it would be a lengthy wait. That gave him time to think about what was in the Prophet that morning. Skeeter had been more than helpful, and he imagined the ministry resembled an anthill that had been disturbed. He would likely not need to do anything else. Between Skeeter's poison-pen, and the investigations by the DMLE, it should be a fun few days.

He was startled out of his thoughts, when a pair of strong arms locked him in a tight embrace. "Harry, I'm so sorry…"

"Bill… it's… I'm okay now. You're okay, everything's gonna be better. It has to be."

"I… I will never…" Draco stuttered, his head clouded by what he had just witnessed. McGonagall also appeared to be addled by the contents. Only Snape and Dumbledore remained unfazed. After all, they had already heard or seen Harry's future.

"Draco… Harry is agreeing for you to stay with him until school resumes," said Dumbledore, while Harry retrieved his memories from the pensieve.

"But sir, why can't I just stay here with Severus? I promise I won't be trouble…"

"Malfoy, it's not allowed, I asked that enough times the previous few years," said Harry, "And where I'm staying right now, no one can find us."

"I don't need protecting, Potter—" Draco spat, but Dumbledore cut across him, saying, "I daresay, you do, Draco. Voldemort's followers will not take kindly to the arrest of your parents, nor the information they may provide; you will become a target." Just then, a large barn owl fluttered through the open window to light on Dumbledore's desk, extending a leg, on which was tied a letter. The headmaster took it, and quickly read it. "Forgive me, but I must take leave to answer a call at the ministry. Minerva and Severus, I leave you to finish up here." He stepped up to the fireplace, tossed a handful of floo powder into the grate, then spoke, "Ministry of magic!" then stepped into the flames and vanished.

"I wonder if they're about to remove Fudge from office," Bill mused, still standing behind his chair, hands resting on Harry's shoulders.

"Hopefully. The sooner they get rid of Fudge, the better. Like I said, he's got his head shoved so far up his own ass he's been blinded by his own shit."

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall looked scandalized, while Snape was doing his best to keep his indifferent mask fixed on his face, although the corners of his mouth were twitching.

"What? It's true," said Harry, "And that foul Umbridge woman. She snapped my wand the first time around. I'll make DAMNED sure she doesn't last a week as a teacher here."

"Trust me, Potter, I won't hesitate to assist with that," said Snape.

"Umbridge… who is she?" questioned Draco.

"Senior undersecretary to the minister," supplied Bill, "But Harry's spot on in that she's a most foul woman. A strong supporter of the pure-blood movement."

"That about sums it up," said Harry, "But she's particularly cruel. She tortured first years the first time around!"

"With what, Potter?" questioned McGonagall.

"A blood quill."

"She did not!"

"I swear it, she did. But trust me, the first time she tries something like that here, it'll be her last. She won't be torturing friends… or enemies alike. I'll permanently transfigure her into the toad she is long before."

"Well… as noble as your words are, Mr. Potter, I can't condone nor allow you to… well… to take any sort of action against a teacher," said McGonagall.

"She's not a teacher yet. Just pretend you didn't hear that, professor. She won't ever know it's me," said Harry, gesturing at himself. His appearance changed once again, to the one he had used on his second visit to Diagon Alley. He was unrecognizable. McGonagall pursed her lips, clearly not in approval of Harry's plan, but said nothing. "Just exercising my Slytherin side," he added, restoring his 'older' appearance. That once again had the corners of Snape's mouth twitching, and McGonagall scowling. "What, the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin. I asked it not to."

"You would have done well in Slytherin, I stand by that," spoke the hat, resting on top of the bookshelf, as it always did.

"Except now I'm embracing that side of myself a little more," Harry smirked, "Older and wiser, as the saying goes, I guess."

"Indeed, Potter," spoke Snape, "Your father would roll over in his grave should he ever know that."

"Hmmm… maybe need to speak with my parents' portrait later," Harry smirked.

"Sir, why are you being so… well… nice to Potter?" questioned Draco, looking rather confused.

"Draco, there are things going on you still don't know about nor understand," spoke Snape, "You are no fool and you'll do well to take heed to what Potter has shown you here this morning."

"I know, sir. I know. I just find it hard, with… everything I know is wrong."

"Of course it's wrong," said Harry, "You've been brainwashed by your father, your mother, and who knows who else into believing all this dragon shit about pure-blood supremacy. It's all bullocks! We need witches and wizards like Hermione just as much as we need witches and wizards like you and me."

"But…"

"But what? They're polluting our blood? No, they're bringing NEW blood in. At the rate we're going, we'll breed ourselves out of existence without…" Harry made a sour face, but continued, "Without… mudbloods." That got a sour look from McGonagall. "Sorry for the calloused term, but, we need muggleborns as much as we need halfbloods and purebloods to survive." He extended an index finger. "Tempus." '10:14 am' wafted from it. "Look, this is well and good, but I do have a few things I need to take care of today. Draco, I really would rather us be on the same page, than at each other's throat. Because, point blank, this year you will lose badly. You want to be on the winning side, right?"

"Who says your side is the winning side?"

"I do, Draco," said Snape, coldly, "This…" he pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the dark mark tattooed on his forearm, "leads to nothing but death and destruction, your own included. Is that truly what you want?"

"Or would you instead like a chance at a happy life, maybe have a family and a future? That's what I offer," said Harry, "I don't promise it, because I can't. I am confident in the chances, though."

Draco seemed to think on it for a few moments, digesting what both his godfather and Potter had to say. Indeed, as he had spoken only a few moments earlier, everything he knew was wrong. It wasn't Potter who had chosen poorly when they met in first year. It had been he, Draco. This boy-become-man sitting only a few feet away from him was then showing more compassion and understanding than anyone had ever showed him, even after the terrifying future he had lived. Had the tables been reversed, Draco knew it would be quite a different outcome. He realized that, even with the pensieve memories he had just been shown, he still knew absolutely nothing about Harry Potter. Perhaps it was time he did. Draco made a decision.

"Perhaps… we should wipe the slate clean," Draco said, offering a hand. Harry stood up, gripping it firmly. "Harry Potter."

"Draco Malfoy."

Minutes later, Draco stepped out of the floo along with Professors McGonagall and Snape. "This way," said Harry, and led them into the study.

"What's he doing here?" Ron hissed, seeing the blonde-haired Slytherin step into the room.

"Security arrangements," answered Harry, gesturing to a seat at the conference table. "Ron, Hermione, better come join us." Hermione carried a sour look on her face as she took a seat at the table, laying an advanced charms textbook in front of her, and Ron plopping down into a chair beside her.

"Draco's in danger," said Harry, bluntly, "Dumbledore's asked me to protect him, and… considering what happened to his parents may be my fault… it's the right thing to do."

"How so, Potter?" questioned Draco, narrowing his eyes.

"You know your father's been bribing the minister?" Draco nodded, so Harry continued, "The Prophet received an 'anonymous tip' about bribes, and the ministry's investigating."

"I'm gonna hex you—"

"No one will be hexing anyone," said McGonagall, sharply, "Sit down, Mr. Malfoy." Draco retook his seat, although he still glared daggers at Harry.

"Now look. This is harsh, and I know it… but think about what your father's been teaching you. Do you really want to follow in his shoes? Become a sycophant to a tyrant? That's exactly what will happen."

"But… it's my father! How do you EXPECT me to react, Potter?!! He's in bloody jail because of you!"

"Trust me, I wouldn't expect you to react any differently. I would be just as pissed off if the tables were reversed. There will be more than a few families that will be pissed at me today."

"Harry, everything all right? Oh… hello professors," Cedric greeted. It looked like he had just climbed out of bed.

"Fine, Ced," said Harry, looking his boyfriend over, as he took a seat beside him. Only then did Cedric notice the blonde seated at the table. "Malfoy," he said, inclining his head.

"As I was saying before… look, things are going to get uncomfortable—"

"Uncomfortable, right," Draco snarled, "You had my parents arrested!"

"If your mum had nothing to do with anything, she'll be released. But your father's been nothing but trouble. Admit it. Look what he did to Ron's sister. D'you know what it truly was he gave her?"

"Just some old book," said Draco, the fire still blazing in his eyes.

"Do you want to know what it truly was? Bill… go fetch the box you warded yesterday, please." Bill nodded, and stepped out of the room, to return shortly after, levitating a medium-sized chest, and set it on the table. Draco looked at it, questioningly.

"Come closer," said Harry, getting up and moving closer to the box. He opened it with a gesture from his hand, then levitated Slytherin's locket out, letting it rest on the table. Draco went to touch it, but Harry shook his head. "Just a finger. Carefully, one finger on it, and tell me what you see, what you feel.

The instant flesh came in contact with it, the boy's mind was assaulted with a stream of hideous memories. A group of children, with terrified looks on their faces, on the edge of a bluff overlooking the sea. A family of Muggles, all dead, clearly cut down by the killing curse. Worse, a tall, pale figure with red eyes, and a non-existent nose, with slits for nostrils. His nails better resembled claws. Draco pulled his hand away with a gasp.

"What… what was that?"

"A piece of Voldemort's soul," answered Harry, levitating the locket back into the box and closing it, "This is what your father supports. Is that what you want? Follow your father, and that's what we'll get, along with the terrifying future you viewed through my memories. Bill… if you'd put it back in my room…"

Draco fell heavily back into a seat, his mind again a swirl of conflicting emotions. He was furious with Potter, but yet, his words were never so spot on. His father had preached the Malfoys would be strong and proud, standing beside the Dark Lord. They would help cleanse the Wizarding world of the filth of un-pure blood. They would bring back the old traditions.

Did that also mean, endless killings, the destruction of the Wizarding world? The countryside in ruins? Hogwarts overrun, horribly damaged, as much as the ministry was? What kind of future was that? Begrudgingly, he had to agree with Harry. The dark side was the wrong side.

"You… you still had my father arrested," Draco growled.

"Still stuck on that? Look, at least in prison, he'll be relatively safe, think of it that way," Harry pointed out, "Away from Voldemort's manipulations. That's what's important, right?"

"I-I suppose."

"That's a start. Look, I know how important family is, even though it's something I've only been able to dream of. Draco, I know there's a good person in there. Prove to me there are good people in Slytherin."

Draco again fell silent, weighing all he had seen and heard. He was still mad as hell about the fact Harry had somehow gotten his parents arrested. Yet, he was also right. He knew what lay in store when he turned 16, should his father be out of prison. Of course, that would also depend on what happened with the Dark Lord himself. Speaking of which…

"You prevented the Dark Lord from regaining his body," Draco spoke.

"Yeah, I did. Peter Pettigrew had the ritual already prepared, he only needed me there to complete it. I apparated Cedric and I back to the school before he had the chance," said Harry, "Last time, Cedric was killed, and part of me died."

"Of course, I did know you two were, well…"

"Dating? Gods, was it that obvious?" questioned Cedric.

"The whispering in the great hall after you guys left on several occasions, surely you aren't that dense, Harry," said Hermione.

"You know how the Hogwarts grapevine works by now," Bill pointed out. Harry only nodded; yes, he knew all too well.

"If everything is well and good here, perhaps it's best I get back to my office," said McGonagall, standing, "As it is with the headmaster, should you need anything, do feel free to floo my office."

"I'll do that, professor. If I don't see you before, I'll see you at the start of school."

The table again fell silent as the professor left. Harry once again felt as if he had been thrown into a fast-moving river, and all he could do is try and keep his head above water, at the mercy of the current. Sure, he had planned on approaching the blonde Slytherin sometime during the upcoming school year, not now, during the summer, when so many other things were nagging for attention. Speaking of nagging for attention… He'd promised Malachai he would get him some new clothes—how many days ago now?

"Right. Professor, do you mind sticking around for the afternoon? There's something I need to take care of and I'd rather the trunk remain in one piece until I get back."

"I am not a house-elf, Potter," Snape sneered.

"No, of course not, but well… I mean, I'm sure my mum might like to see you. The portrait's been moved out to the common room, well, for privacy reasons." The potions professor only nodded at that point, at which Harry continued, "We will be needing a new room, then. Cedric, could you maybe drag the twins away from whatever mayhem they might be causing, get them to help add a room for Draco. Probably at the end of the hall, I guess."

"And where are you going?" questioned Draco.

"I have a few things to take care of in Muggle London, the one of which is to get rid of these glasses. I did it the first time around, so why not now?"

"Mate, you will look strange, I said it before," said Ron.

"You'll have to get used to it, just like everyone else." He turned to Bill. "Where's Malachai?"

"Downstairs, I think, helping teach the other children."

"Right."

"What, you're just going out without, well—" Ron sputtered.

"I think I can trust the people here not to turn everything upside down while we're out," answered Harry, "Trust goes both ways, does it not?"

"But you just said—"

"Ron, I know what I just said. Guys, I'm asking everyone to trust me and try and get along. Bill, let's go."

Minutes later, Harry, Bill, and Malachai stood on Charring Cross Road, just outside the Leaky Cauldron.

"Malachai… do me a favour and look behind you. What do you see?"

"The door to the place we just left, why?"

"Excellent," said Harry, "You're just like… well… this bloke a friend of mine healed a few years ago."

"You can see the Leaky Cauldron?" Bill arched an eyebrow.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Well, Muggles aren't supposed to see it."

"That's why he sometimes sees my memories—err—nightmares," said Harry, "I donated blood twice." He waved his hand and hailed a black cab, which pulled up to the curb. The trio climbed in, and they were off, after Bill passed instructions to the driver. "Muffliato," Harry whispered, getting an arched eyebrow from Bill. "Can't have our Muggle driver hearing now, right?"

"Right."

"The statute of secrecy?" questioned Malachai. Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, exactly. So anyway. It's possible he might develop some magical ability."

"As in, be able to use a wand?"

"You might. The last time I saw it happen, well, the guy was learning 3rd year material, before Death Eaters got him. Voldemort reacted very poorly to the idea of Muggles being able to practice magic."

"Yeah, no doubt there," said Bill, "But… how is it possible? The way I understood it, magic was something someone had to be born with."

"Yes, that's what the ministry wants us to believe. But there are some instances where that's not true… example, when, say, a powerful wizard—" Harry gestured to himself, "—donates blood to a Muggle."

"But…"

"We'll see, won't we?" Harry grinned.

"How long?" questioned Malachai, "How long will it take?"

"I don't know, it was a few months the last time. But the last time, it wasn't me who did it, but a friend. And although he was a decent wizard, I'm a bit stronger. So who knows?"

"Is that… why I—I'm drawn to you?"

"Probably one of the reasons. But if you think I well… did anything… put something in a potion or whatever… I promise you I didn't."

"It just feels… weird."

"I guess it would. It doesn't make me uncomfortable or anything, if that's what you're worried about. I'm glad I can call you a friend, perhaps now one of my best friends, one of my inner circle."

"You consider me that way?"

"Hey, he DOES let you share our bed," Bill pointed out, at which Malachai had to nod in agreement. One did not allow their enemies to share their bed, after all. The cab pulled to a stop, and Harry cancelled the muffling charm, then paid the driver.

The store was an outfit that catered to the younger crowd, and by the way Bill was navigating through the place, he was perhaps a regular customer.

"All right. Both of you," said Bill, "Let me pick stuff out and you can try it. Don't say 'no' until you've tried it on—no protests either," he said, before Harry had a chance to get a word in edgewise. "When was the last time you had new clothes?"

"What, in this lifetime, or my 'future'?"

"Either."

"In the future, well… maybe about 3 years. In this lifetime, never."

"Outrageous," Bill swore, "That aunt of yours needs a word or two, I should think."

"And you won't be doing it," Harry spoke back, "I'm trying to improve our relationship as it is… my absence for the past week isn't going to help that, and neither will any of my 'freak' friends yelling at them."

"Is that what they truly think of you? Harry, that's a terrible way to live."

"But it's necessary," Harry answered, "Look, I don't even have to see them now. But the thing is, Petunia is my aunt, my blood. If I have to, I will protect them."

"Yeah, right, because it's the right thing to do. Harry, we are all very lucky of how strong you truly are. If not…"

"I would be another Voldemort, I know," Harry finished.

"Here. Try this and this and these on," said Bill, handing Harry a pair of dark jeans, a white button-up shirt, and a shoebox.

Harry vanished into a fitting room, and was gone for several minutes. He came back out, looking very different. The jeans fit him nicely, as did the shirt and the shoes. He was still quite thin, but he looked good, at least Bill thought. Blood was already rushing to the lower part of his body as he thought of helping Harry out of said jeans, and he felt his cheeks get warm.

"Well, I see SOMEONE likes it," Harry grinned. "Okay, how about him?" he gestured to Malachai.

"Yes, right," said Bill, trying to calm the tent that was threatening to pop up in his pants. He trotted off to another rack of pants, while Harry let a giggle escape. '3 years is like nothing here now,' he thought, retreating back to a fitting room.

"Now. Malachai, you're a little more challenging… I know that from personal experience, so let's try these… and these… and these…" He handed the boy a box of 8-hole boots, a black shirt with a white tee shirt to go under it, and a pair of light blue jeans. Malachai excepted the offering, and disappeared into a fitting room.

Stepping out of it minutes later, he too, was changed. The outfit looked quite sharp, the boots fit well and felt comfortable. This was a keeper for sure.

"Well?"

"I like it. No more scratchy cloth."

"You and I agree on that one," said Harry.

Once he had changed out of that outfit and put it aside, Bill continued picking out various items for the other boys to try on, some of which worked well, while others did not. Each ended up with 4 sets of shirts and pants, numerous tee shirts, and 2 separate pairs of footwear. Each also ended up with a decent suit, for occasions when they might need to dress up. Sure, one could get that kind of thing at Madam Malkin's, but since they were already there…

"Bill, you can pick stuff out for yourself as well… and if there's anything you think Cedric might like—"

"Harry…"

"I've got this, I mean it. You guys haven't a clue how much money I've got in my vault. This won't put nary a scratch in it, so have at it."

"In that case, there's a couple of places we can go after this, if you would like."

"More clothes?"

"Yeah, sort of," said Bill, mischievously.

And so it went, that once they finished their business at that particular store, Bill dragged Harry and Malachai to a motorcycle shop.

"What are we doing here?" questioned Harry, arching an eyebrow.

"Well, your godfather does own a motorcycle, does he not?"

"Err…"

"And you would want to be protected when you go riding it, right?"

"Who says—"

"Here, look," said Bill, dragging Harry over to a rack of leather gear, "Feel this stuff. It's not near as strong as dragon hide, but this is a ton softer."

"I guess…" said Harry, having his doubts. Malachai meanwhile, was looking at jackets.

"You see something you like, don't worry about the cost."

"Really?"

"Remember what I said. Bill… you too… although really I can't see myself in this stuff… I mean, it's nice, but—"

"Don't be a prat," said Bill, "Here, try these on."

By the time they were finished in the bike shop, Harry's money bag was somewhat lighter—Leather is rather expensive, after all. He had bought outfits for the 3 of them, and an additional outfit had been put on order for Cedric. Harry would be sure to bring him to the shop to be fitted properly. He had to admit, the leather gear actually fit him well, and with his hair as it was, he looked very good. 'Okay, so maybe Bill DOES know what he's talking about,' Harry mentally conceded. Of course, the past few years of his life, Harry didn't have time to dress up and look nice, never mind spending money on frivolous things.

"Right, one more place I have in mind," said Bill, "And it's just as cool as this one. Let's find an alley and apparate."

"If you know where we're going," said Harry, still messing about with his pants. They were a bit loose, and even the belt didn't seem to help as much as he might like it to. A sizing charm would probably do, but doing any kind of magic out on the street was risky at the best of times.

They ducked into a nearby alley and popped away, after Harry and Malachai gripped Bill's arms. They landed in another alley, and Bill led the way back to the street, and to their next target: an army surplus outfit. Harry had dealt with a store like it a few times.

"Army stuff?" Malachai arched an eyebrow.

"A couple of things, mainly. Specifically, jackets and boots. Come on, I'll show you."

Harry found himself dressed up in no-nonsense cargo pants, a pair of Doc Marten boots, a white tee shirt, and a bomber jacket.

"Err… no. The jacket's all right, but… not the rest," he decided.

"Okay, but… you do look hot in that stuff."

"Hey, I'm not some… err… I don't know, play doll or whatever," Harry snorted, removing the jacket. "Get whatever you guys want… I'll take the jacket, but nothing else."

Stepping outside the storefront, Harry knew at once something was very wrong. It was mid afternoon, but… it was as if the day had almost become night, like the onset of an approaching thunderstorm. More disconcerting, it had gotten… cold? A horrible sense of dread fell over him, coupled with an equally horrible sense of déjà vu.

"Malachai!!! Get back in the store now! GO!" Harry shouted, pointing frantically at the door, where ice was already starting to form at the edges of the glass on the windows. He was actually shivering now, the icy atmosphere seeping into his bones, while his red-haired friend seemed rooted to the ground, like the other Muggles on the street.

"Run! Take cover!" Harry shouted, fumbling for his wand, wedged in the waistband of his new pants. The leather made it more difficult to pull out, and he lost his grip on it as it came out; it clattered to the street and rolled away from him. Bill had already drawn his wand, and held it firmly in front of him, already knowing what it was. Just WHERE was the question. He stepped backwards—and was slammed from behind by a car, tossed up onto the sidewalk with a sickening crunch.

"BILL!" Harry shouted, forgetting about his wand, rushing to check on his second boyfriend. He was out cold, and probably suffered nasty injuries.

The driver of the car had gotten out to check, but Harry waved her off, saying, "Get the hell out of here!"

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry love!!" the woman wailed, trying to kneel beside him, but Harry pushed her away. "NO! I can handle it, just get the hell away! You'll be killed!!!"

"Harry!!!" Harry wheeled to see Malachai, gesturing toward something behind him(1). He turned, and his blood ran cold, just as cold as the atmosphere now felt. 3 hooded shapes were floating down from the rooftops above the street: Dementors.

"MALACHAI RUN!!!" Harry hissed, searching the ground for his missing wand. He cast a wandless notice-me-not charm over Bill—his condition would have to wait, Dementors were much more serious. "MALACHAI! DO AS I SAY!!"

That seemed to snap the boy out of his fixation and he turned and ran, only to trip over his own feet, still not used to the pair of boots he had just bought.

"Bloody FUCK!" Harry swore, as one of the hideous creatures swooped down on the now prone boy. Another had picked out a Muggle target on the opposite side of the street, while the third was gunning straight for Harry.

"Wand!" he demanded, his mind clouding as the Dementor grew near. He found it harder and harder to concentrate, and concentration was needed for wandless magic. 'Concentrate, Potter', spoke his inner voice. He fought several moments, at last speaking, arm outstretched, "Accio WAND!"

The missing wand snapped into his hand, and he brandished it in front of him. 'happy thoughts, think happy thoughts…' "Expecto patronum." A light wisp of energy wafted from the tip, to dissipate into the chilly air. The air had become cold enough for him to see his own breath… the Dementor grew closer. It was as if he were watching from outside his body at this point, seeing the towering shape gliding straight at him, its gnarled hands reaching to clutch him about the neck. "Expecto…" his voice sounded so distant. 'Focus, Potter,' his inner voice commanded, 'You can do this, you've done it before'. 'I KNOW I've done it before, but… for Bill… and Malachai…"

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" The command came from deep within, and with it, an enormous stag burst from the end of his wand, and ploughed straight into the oncoming Dementor, sending it flying back from whence it came. It swooped away, just as the first time around, much resembling a bat. It would not strike again.

He turned around to find the second Dementor at Malachai's throat. If he didn't act now, it would be too late, as the vile creature had lowered its hood and was leaning in to kiss him. "GET IT!" Harry commanded, and the stag stampeded forward, charging straight at it, catching the Dementor right in the midsection, sending it flying.

Now, where was the third? He wheeled, to see it had been busy while he dealt with the others. 3 Muggles lay on the street, and the foul beast was about to kiss a 4th. The Patronus charged at it, dispatching the final Dementor to the skies, and Harry sank to his knees, as his Patronus faded. The sky seemed to at once brighten, and the cold vanish, leaving no trace of the nightmare which had just descended on the street.

Dementors in Muggle London. It had happened again. Worse, he had used his wand in front of Muggles, rather spectacularly. It wouldn't matter now, would it? He raised his hand aloft, sending a burst of red sparks skyward, then, kneeling beside Malachai, he summoned Bill to him, and they vanished with a very noisy CRACK. He would not wait for the ministry to show up.

"Harry? What happened now?" questioned Lily, alarmed from her portrait.

"Dementors in London," Harry breathed, at last dispelling the notice-me-not charm from Bill, "Guys?! Anyone here?"

"Potter… what's happened to you now?" questioned Snape, appearing at the door to the corridor.

"Just, help me," Harry pleaded, "Dementors, 3 of them… London."

"Harry?" Cedric crossed the floor faster than humanly possible, it seemed. "What in Merlin's name?"

"He… he was almost kissed," Harry managed, taking several breaths to get control of himself. He needed his adult mind for this… get to the centre… more calming breaths. "Bill… was hit by a car when he accidentally stepped into the street."

"Accidentally stepped into the street?" questioned Snape, gesturing with his wand. Bill's shirt was stripped away, leaving his torso exposed. "I shall floo Madam Pomfrey," he announced, and stepped over to the fireplace.

Harry was torn between who to be worried about. Bill, with possible devastating internal injuries, or Malachai, who had come within a hair's breath of being kissed by a Dementor. He was still shaking like a leaf, exactly as Dudley had done 11 years prior. He would have been forced to relive some of his worst memories. Harry knew that all too well; his exposure to the Dementors brought out truly the worst memories.

"Master Harry is taking a calming draught now," said Kreacher, holding out a small vial.

"Yes, thank you, Kreacher," said Harry, gladly accepting it, and downing it at once. He would definitely need it for what was happening, and was about to happen. "Tempus," he whispered. '2:37 pm' wafted from his right index finger.

"Harry?" Bill moaned.

"Stay still," Harry warned.

"What… what happened? The Dementors…"

"They're gone, we're back in the trunk," answered Harry.

"G-good," Bill murmured, although he sounded quite faint.

"Bill? Harry? What happened?" questioned Ron, also stepping into the common room. He was quickly followed by his twin brothers.

"Guys, slow down… I—we don't know how bad it is just yet," Harry warned, "He was hit by a car… we were attacked by Dementors in London."

"He'll be okay, though, right?" questioned George, kneeling beside his brother. Fred quickly joined him, as did Ron.

"I hope so," said Harry, as Cedric wrapped him in a hug.

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: The chapter title of course pays homage to canon, being a slight twist of the opening chapter from OotP._

_NO. Draco will not be joining Harry's, um, posse? Group? Harem? Not sure what to call it, but definitely no, Draco won't be any part of that. They won't ever be best friends, that just doesn't feel right to me._

_(1) Remember, Malachai isn't exactly a Muggle at this point, so YES, he would be able to see Dementors._

27


	16. The Emancipation of Harry Potter

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __femalefarrier, tamahome8, StoryTagger, and kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: Coarse language._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry, Bill, and Malachai recover after the attack in London; Harry's hearing before the Wizengamot has some unexpected consequences…_

_

* * *

  
_

**16:THE EMANCIPATION OF HARRY POTTER  
Or, harry potter vs the ministry of magic, round I**

The floo fired, and Madam Pomfrey emerged from it. She wasted no time assessing the eldest Weasley boy. "All of you, back up and let me work," she ordered. Harry was somewhat relieved there was a competent healer present; he was in no shape to be of any help.

Of course, then again, what Malachai had just gone through… he was still shaking violently, nary a sound coming from him. "Kreacher, another calming draught if you will." The elf nodded and popped away, returning moments later with the requested potion. "Malachai… you need to drink this," said Harry, gently propping up the boy's head. There was no hesitation, as he accepted the potion.

"Harry? What happened?" questioned Sirius, also stepping into the common room.

"Dementors, three of them," answered Harry, as he helped Malachai into a sitting position. He found himself engulfed in a bone-crunching hug courtesy the upset boy.

"Gods! When? Where?" Sirius demanded.

"London… we were just leaving a store and… bloody hell, how did they know?!" He felt his heart again racing, the scene again clouding his mind.

"Potter, you may want to let Mr. and Mrs. Weasley through, they will need to know about this," spoke Madam Pomfrey. Harry went to get up, but Malachai wouldn't let him.

"I'll just be a second," said Harry, but not even that could reassure the boy. Of course, Dudley had taken it equally as bad the first time around, without the help of wizard potions, he remembered. Freeing an arm, he gestured at the fireplace. "Addendum, Molly Weasley. Addendum, Arthur Weasley." The fireplace glowed green with each addition. "Ron… go get your parents… tell them what's happened," Harry suggested. Ron wouldn't move.

"Ron, do it," Bill whispered, "Get mum and dad… this is bad, really bad." At that, Ron scrambled to the fireplace, and activated it, shouting, "No. twelve, Grimmauld Place!" and vanished into the green flames.

"Let's get up," Harry again whispered, "I won't let go of you if you don't want me to."

"Was he—" Sirius began, but Harry finished, "Almost kissed, yeah. Help me lift him over to a couch."

They had just got him settled, when the fireplace roared to life, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stumbling out of it, both looking quite rattled. "Bill?!" Molly cried, seeing her eldest son laying on the floor of the room, with Madam Pomfrey busily applying numerous healing charms. The floo fired again, this time Ron stepping out of it. He quickly returned to his brother's side.

"Mrs. Weasley… I'm so sorry," Harry spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Harry… what happened?" questioned Arthur, kneeling beside the couch.

"Dementors attacked us… we were shopping in London… three of them."

"Good heavens! Did you alert the ministry?"

"Does it look—" Harry started to shout, but took a deep breath. It wouldn't help shouting at Mr. Weasley. "I shot of sparks into the sky and fled."

"What happened to Bill?"

"He backed out onto the street… this car came and… he was knocked flying," Harry explained.

"I… I feel like… I'll never be happy again," Malachai finally managed, his eyes still full of fear.

"Yes you will," Harry spoke, firmly, "The feeling will pass, I promise you." He gripped the boy about the shoulders and looked into his eyes, giving him a smile. "I promise it'll be all right."

Just then, there was a loud POP, and a screech owl swooped in through the door that led to the entry hall. It soared across the room, dropped a large envelope it carried in its beak into Harry's lap, then swung around, heading back from whence it came. Harry had configured the trunk so owls would be able to deliver the mail to him.

Harry almost exploded with rage, already knowing what the envelope contained, seeing the large 'M' stencilled on the front. He had no doubt it was the same owl who had delivered the letter the first time around.

"What… what is it, Harry?" questioned Malachai, as Harry opened the letter. "Bad news," he answered, as he read:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received intelligence that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-one minutes past two this afternoon in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of numerous Muggles._

_The severity of this breach of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery has resulted in your expulsion from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Ministry representatives will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your wand._

_As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a disciplinary hearing at the Ministry of Magic at 9 a.m. on the twenty-fourth of July._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk,_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic(1)_

"As if this can't get any better," he hissed, dropping the letter in his lap. Malachai picked it up.

"Well, what is it Harry?" questioned Arthur, torn between concern for his eldest son, and concern for his practically adopted one.

"I did magic outside of school in front of Muggles," said Harry, "I have to attend a hearing."

"But… Harry… why would… why would they… you were just protecting us," Malachai stammered, still trying to sort out the cobwebs in his mind left behind by the Dementors.

"It's that Umbridge woman. She set the Dementors on me last time."

"She framed you again," Sirius guessed. Just then, the floo fired for a 4th time, and Dumbledore stepped out of the fire. "Harry. I'm working to straighten this all out," he reassured.

"Professor. Remember what I showed you from my 'future'?" The old wizard nodded. "Just make sure that happens again. I can deal with Fudge. And sir. Did you know, if they pull me in front of the entire Wizengamot, they effectively try me as an adult?"

"You've done your homework. It looks like you won't need to bother your aunt for her blessing regarding emancipation."

"Exactly. Fudge is giving me more power than he realizes," said Harry, wheels already turning on how he could turn this to his advantage.

"I'll speak with Madam Hopkirk, then," said Dumbledore, and he vanished back through the floo. Arthur, meanwhile, had joined his wife kneeling at Bill's side. Cedric had finally joined Harry and Malachai.

"Harry? What happened?" questioned Hermione, finally appearing at the doorway to the corridor.

"Yeah, history repeats. C'mon, guys… let's get back into the study."

Draco looked up from the stack of parchment he had in front of him, when they entered the room. Harry and Cedric were supporting Malachai between them, as he was still rather dazed from the encounter.

"What happened to him?"

"Dementors," answered Harry, as they took seats at the conference table.

"Like before, the ministry's decided to charge me with underage sorcery."

"So not only is the Dark Lord aligned against you, but the ministry too?"

"Exactly. Or Fudge, specifically."

"Have they set a date for your hearing?" questioned Sirius.

"9 am on July 24th," answered Harry.

"Bill and Malachai were with you… did either of them see the Dementors?"

"I… I did," answered Malachai.

"You'll need to testify," said Sirius, "Bill too."

"If he survives," spoke Harry.

"Oh come off it, he'll be fine!" Cedric scolded, "He's awake and talking, isn't he?"

"I suppose… it's just—"

"Just nothing. You above all people should know Madam Pomfrey knows what she's doing."

"I just… I lost him once already, I don't want to lose him again." Just then, another owl swooped into the room, to drop a second letter on the table in front of Harry, then left the way it had come. Harry also knew the contents of this letter, but opened it anyway:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Further to our letter of approximately fourteen minutes ago, the Ministry of Magic has revised its decision to destroy your wand forthwith. You may retain your wand until your disciplinary hearing on the twenty-forth of July, at which time an official decision will be taken._

_Following discussions with the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry has agreed that the question of your expulsion will also be decided at that time. You should therefore consider yourself suspended from school pending further inquiries._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk,_

_Improper Use of Magic Office_

_Ministry of Magic(2)_

"Great. Dumbledore got that bit straightened out," said Harry, laying the parchment flat on the table. Two sets of hands reached over to read it, but Malachai got to it first. "So help me I'm gonna roast Fudge over an open fire," Harry vowed, "Him and that ugly toad of his. Maybe we left Gatlin a little too soon." That got a dirty look from Malachai.

"You can't mean that," said Sirius, also giving Harry a dark look.

"At least I wouldn't have Fudge breathing down my neck."

"No, you'd just have Isaac and the false god," Malachai retorted, dropping the letter in front of him.

"Yes, and further influences for you to do most unsettling things. Once again, Harry, I truly worry," said Sirius, shaking his head. They were interrupted, as Bill was led into the study, supported by his parents. Harry resisted the urge to leap to his feet and check him over.

"You all right, Harry?" Bill questioned, easing into a seat across the table. Molly and Arthur took seats on either side.

"Fine… fine now. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, I'm sorry this might be a little confusing, but—"

"A little confusing?!" Molly exclaimed, "You have a lot of nerve, keeping us all in the dark as you have. And being out in Muggle London by yourself?!"

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, gesturing to himself, restoring his 'older' appearance. Both Molly and Arthur let out a gasp, witnessing the change. "I assure you, there have been some changes, and I'm more than capable of taking care of myself."

"Other than us being attacked by… by Dementors," Malachai rebutted. He was definitely getting better.

"Yes, our point exactly, Harry, Merlin's beard you could have been kissed!" Molly persisted.

"But we weren't," Harry answered, "Although four Muggles were… I'm so gonna roast Fudge and his toad for that. They might has well have been murdered."

"And… and what's happened to you?" Molly continued, appraising the man who now sat in Harry's place. He looked to be as old as Bill.

"Look, would someone mind explaining this to Molly and Arthur, I'm really tired of repeating myself." He brushed Cedric's hand off his shoulder, and stood up. "I'll be back shortly."

He returned to find Bill and Ron both speaking to their parents in low tones, while Hermione had disappeared, likely back into the stacks (his library had been steadily enlarging since she had arrived). Draco was also missing, but voices down the hall gave him a clue as to the blonde Slytherin's whereabouts.

Harry took a seat where he had been sitting, and Cedric wasted no time snaking a hand over his shoulder. "Feel better?"

"A little. Calming draught only goes so far, as I should know. This afternoon's been a cluster-fuck."

"Harry!" Molly looked scandalized.

"Oh please, don't scold me for my foul mouth, I'm going on twenty-seven, not fifteen," Harry snorted, "My patience is VERY thin right now. I'll lay it out like this: if Fudge happened to come through my floo right now, I'd curse first ask questions later."

"Then it's a good thing he's not on the access list," said Cedric, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze.

"Harry, why don't you go relax, perhaps take a nap?" suggested Sirius, "You still look like hell."

"Sounds about right. Coming with?" he gestured to Cedric, who only nodded. "'sides, we do have stuff to put away."

Seconds later, Harry was pulling a number of miniaturized packages from his pockets, while Cedric looked on. "You were busy today."

"Yeah, never knew Bill was so much into shopping. But he had fun, and I did too… well… until—"

"No evil thoughts."

"What about my stuff?" Malachai was standing in the doorway.

"Dig it out and I'll resize it all for you," said Harry.

"You got new stuff too?"

"Well, yeah, that was one of the points of going," answered Harry, "Those awful trousers he was wearing were driving me loopy at night as it was."

"What was that all about, the… err… well… old farmer look?" questioned Cedric.

"Isaac's idea. No-nonsense clothing, he said. Some of us took to it more than others."

"I noticed. Seth seems to have kept ordinary clothes," Harry noted.

"Why'd you change, then?"

"I was, I guess, fully enthralled by Isaac's teachings."

"Like I said, though, it was a powerful enchantment. Not just any witch or wizard would have been able to undo it… and in some ways, I'm surprised I was able to."

"I know I've said it before, but I say it again, thank you… for giving me my life back."

"It's only right," said Harry, gesturing at the numerous packages Malachai had pulled from his pockets. "Oh, and Cedric, we did get some stuff for you as well… Bill's got it though."

"Thanks!"

"Hey, anything for the people that mean so much for me," said Harry, pulling out the heavy leather jacket he had bought.

"That's… nice," said Cedric, feeling the soft leather. Harry grinned, saying, "Good, because I bought an outfit like this for you as well… although we'll have to go pick it up. This isn't something I really trust resizing charms on."

"Harry, are you sure? This looks—"

"Yes, it's fucking expensive, and worth every knut, okay? Consider it an early birthday gift." Cedric held his hands up in surrender, as Harry slipped on the jacket, which indeed matched the pants he wore. Coupled with the plain black tee shirt, and his older appearance, Cedric found him most definitely appealing. The tent forming in his pants more than confirmed that.

"I do believe someone might actually find this sexy," Harry teased, to which Cedric blushed profusely. "Yep, confirmed."

"Don't let that get to your head, Potter," Cedric smirked, "All right, what else did you get?"

"Not exactly a complete wardrobe, but definitely a few outfits. I still need to visit Madam Malkin's though for a new set of robes." He laid out his new suit. "I'll likely wear this to my hearing." Both Cedric and Malachai saw his face darken at the mention of it.

"Okay, what else?" Cedric tried to direct the conversation away from the awful events of earlier that afternoon.

"Well, Bill dragged me into this army surplus store, and wanted me to get… well… he wanted me to dress up like a soldier, I guess… I didn't like it that much, but I got this…" he re-enlarged another package, pulling out an olive green bomber jacket.

"That's pretty nice."

"Comfortable too, the only thing I liked out of the outfit he suggested."

"I got one of those, too," said Malachai, pulling a similar jacket out of a re-enlarged bag. Unlike Harry's, his was a navy blue colour.

"Looks like you guys went nuts."

"I made sure they did," said Harry, "What else is my money for? I think I have a right to spend some of it on my friends."

"I guess you do," said Cedric, wrapping Harry in a tight hug. Both were surprised, when Malachai joined them. 'There it is,' thought Harry, 'he's finally realizing.'

"There room for one more?" they broke off, seeing Bill standing in the doorway, although he still looked a little unsteady on his feet.

"Of course there is!" said Harry, feigning hurt. Bill only crossed the floor, and the 4 of them locked in a tight embrace. 'My inner circle', Harry thought to himself.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The day before the hearing, Dumbledore entered the trunk, looking for Sirius.

"What's going on?" questioned Harry, looking up from his epic chess game with Ron.

"Order meeting," answered the headmaster, "I need to borrow Sirius and Bill for the next little while."

"Sir, are you guarding the door to the Department of Mysteries?" Harry questioned, realizing something.

"No. Since Voldemort did not regain a body, there is no need."

"I'll need to visit the Hall of Prophecies tomorrow after my hearing."

"Yes, quite right. Wise thinking, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"One less thing for us to worry about, right? Now I think Bill might be downstairs with the children… come to think of it so is Sirius."

"You've prepared your defence?"

"Definitely. Fudge will not be railroading me as he did Sirius. Useless git."

"I'm sorry I wasn't able to attend and assist in his defence. I was away handling matters with the ICW."

"I know. Did they throw you off as well?"

"No, I was able to convince them that at least for now, I still have things in hand. That may change, of course."

"Of course."

The following morning, Harry was up at the crack of dawn. He knew Fudge would try and pull a fast one, having the time of the hearing changed. 'He'll be in for a shock when he finds me already waiting,' Harry thought, viciously. Bill, Cedric, and Malachai were also up, although Cedric would not be able to attend. Both Bill and Malachai would be witnesses.

They quickly ate breakfast, then took the floo to the Ministry, where Dumbledore was already waiting for them in the atrium. The atrium was already very busy, as workers were floo'ing in, bustling off to their offices.

"We pass through security first," said Dumbledore, leading Harry and his companions to the security counter. Harry went through the motions of having himself scanned, and his wand weighed, and accepted the 'visitor' pin the security guard handed him. Once Bill had endured the same process, as did Malachai—although somewhat more brief, considering he carried no wand—the group made a track toward the elevators.

They arrived at courtroom ten just before 8 am, and were not surprised to find most of the Wizengamot already seated, with Fudge leering from his usual place at the centre of the first row.

"Good morning," Harry greeted, placing a less-than-sincere smile on his face.

"Who are they? No spectators are allowed—" Percy began, from his regular spot at the very end of the front bench, but Harry only answered, "Keep your knickers on, Percy, I have a right to a defence, do I not?" That got a couple of sniggers from the members, and scowls from others. Bill led Malachai over to the side benches, where they took seats.

"Indeed he does," said Dumbledore, conjuring up a comfortable chintz arm chair, "Perhaps we could get started, since it appears we are all present."

"If you would take your seat, then, Mr. Potter," Fudge gestured to the chair with chains.

"I think I'm quite comfortable as I am, Minister."

"Fine, very well, then… yes, let us begin then…" Fudge looked down at Percy, who already had his quill poised. "Disciplinary hearing of the twenty-forth of July, into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

"Interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Minister for Magic; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Delores Jane Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Court Scribe, Percy Ignatius Weasley—"

"My witnesses," Harry cut in, "William Arthur Weasley, and Craig Boardman."

Like the first time around, Fudge appeared slightly rattled Harry had come with witnesses. "Yes, very well, then, the charges, yes…" He pulled a page of parchment from the stack in front of him, and began reading, "The charges against the accused are as follows:

"That he did knowingly, deliberately and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of not just one, but several Muggles, on the 15th of July at twenty-one minutes past two in the afternoon, which constitutes an offence under Paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy.

"You are Harry James Potter, of number 4, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?"

"I am," answered Harry.

"You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic 3 years ago, did you not?"

"I did."

"And yet you conjured a Patronus on the 15th of July?" questioned Fudge.

"Yes, I did," answered Harry, keeping an even face. He would let Fudge run with things for the moment.

"Knowing that you were not permitted to use magic outside of school while you were under the age of 17?"

"Yes."

"Fully aware that you were in close proximity to not one, but a number of Muggles at the time?"

"Yes," answered Harry. 'Wait for it…' he thought, and wasn't disappointed. The witch sitting beside Fudge—Madam Bones—cut in, asking, "You produced a fully-fledged Patronus?"

"Yes, a stag," answered Harry, "Perfectly formed."

"Indeed? And you've produced a Patronus before now?"

"Yes, for over a year now. Professor Lupin was a brilliant teacher."

"Most impressive," said Madam Bones, "A true Patronus, at only 15… very impressive indeed." Like the first time, some of the witches and wizards around her were muttering, while others were frowning, shaking their heads.

"It's not a question about how impressive the magic was," said Fudge, in a huff, "In fact—"

"Yes, yes, the more impressive, the worse it is," Harry finished.

"How dare—"

"My turn to speak, Minister," Harry hissed, coming around to the front of the chained chair. "You will now hear MY SIDE of the story, it is my RIGHT, is it not?"

"I… I… well…"

"I should also thank you for granting me emancipation—"

"What… what is this nonsense you're spewing, boy?!" Fudge demanded, while Harry only grinned.

"Ah, about that, Minister," Dumbledore spoke for the first time. "It seems you did not conduct proper research in your haste to enact swift justice, Minister. By dragging Mr. Potter before the full Wizengamot, you have effectively tried him as an adult, thereby granting him adult rights." Fudge seemed to wilt at his seat, as the realization dawned on him. "But… but…" he sputtered, "The boy has committed—"

"I would like to present my first witness, William Weasley," said Harry, stepping back. Bill stood up and walked in front of the chained chair.

"Full name?" questioned Fudge, although he still looked very much out of sorts. 'Now you know what it feels like to be blindsided, Fudge', Harry thought, viciously.

"William Arthur Weasley."

"And what is—" Fudge began, but Harry cut across him, saying, "Explain what happened the afternoon of July 15th."

"We were just coming out of a Muggle shop in central London," said Bill. "Now, when we had entered the shop, it was clear weather. When we stepped outside, it was as if there was an approaching thunderstorm. But it wasn't. the air had gotten cold… and I could feel… dread… as if all the happiness was being siphoned out of me. There's only one thing that can do something like that—Dementors." That drew a few gasps and whispers from the assembled body. "I looked around to try and spot where they were coming from, but I must've stepped out into the street, as I was struck from behind by a Muggle automobile. Next thing I remember, I was at Harry's relatives, getting treated for my injuries."

"So you didn't actually SEE any Dementors?" questioned Madam Bones.

"No, madam, I didn't. But I did feel the onset, just before I was struck… and the smell. The smell of death, of decay."

"Thank you," said Harry.

"His testimony is shaky at best," said Fudge, seeming a little less concerned. Yet, what would his second witness have to say? The boy looked like another Weasley.

"My second and last witness, Craig Boardman," said Harry. Malachai took a seat in the chained chair. The chains clanked noisily, but did not restrain the boy.

"Your full name?"

"Craig Boardman."

"No middle name?"

"No, sir."

"As was asked of Mr. Weasley, please state to the assembled body what you saw on the afternoon of the 15th of July."

"Just like Bill—or William said, we were coming out of a store, when Harry shouted at me to run. I… I didn't know why for a few moments, but it was really cold. Weird because it had been quite warm only a few minutes before. Cold as in, see your breath cold." He reached up and flicked a lock of hair out of his face. "Next thing I know, William was knocked backwards by a car up on the sidewalk, and I spotted these dark shapes, coming down from the rooftops. One was coming at me, one was coming at Harry, and the third was making for a group of… a group of …Muggles… on the other side of the street. I don't think they even saw it.

"Harry yelled at me to run, but I tripped—I just bought new boots, right—and the thing was on me. It was like, living my worst nightmares, every terrible thing I've done or witnessed." Harry could see that, even remembering the incident was rattling the boy badly. He stood behind the chair, putting his hands on Malachai's shoulders.

"I… I could barely hear Harry, but suddenly there was this bright light, and the thing went flying… it was gone, it was all over."

"You're not a wizard, I take it?" questioned Madam Bones.

"I guess I'm a squib," answered Malachai.

"Not exactly a compelling witness either," said Fudge, glowering at Harry and Malachai.

"Oh, I don't know," spoke Madam Bones, "Both boys accurately described the effects of a Dementor attack… both of them are lucky they weren't kissed."

"But Dementors wandering into Muggle London and just happen to come across a wizard?" snorted Fudge, "The odds on that must be very, very long. Even Bagman wouldn't have bet—"

"Indeed, and a question I must ask," said Dumbledore, standing, "How is it that Dementors came to be there? Most definitely not by accident." Harry grinned, as the scene played out again, with Dumbledore challenging the idea of the ministry perhaps ordering the Dementors to attack him.

"That's Umbridge," Harry whispered to Malachai, as the toad-faced witch entered the argument.

"I see what you mean by toad," the redhead agreed.

"This is all well and good," Harry spoke, drawing the attention back to himself, "But I think I would like to wrap this up sometime this morning. I'm sure there are other places all of you might like to be."

"Indeed, Mr. Potter," spoke Madam Bones, "All in favour of clearing the accused of all charges?" It was a different outcome this time around, as well over half the assembly's hands went up.

"And those in favour of conviction?" Fudge raised his hand. So did Umbridge, and a scattering of others. Fudge glanced around, then sighed to himself. This was tearing him up, Harry could see it. "Very well, very well then… cleared of all charges."(3)

"Great, now we've got that little piece of business out of the way," said Harry, with a smile, "I must ask this July body what it plans to do with regard to the fact Dementors attacked in Muggle London, kissing 4 Muggles? Surely, this cannot be allowed to happen again, if your strong-arm stance on the statute of secrecy suggests."

"Do not mock this body, Mr. Potter," Fudge snapped, leering over his lectern.

"Mock it? No, I don't mock it at all. But you most certainly do, Minister, dragging people before this body with the illusion of administering justice, yet, it is exactly that, an illusion," Harry crackled back, "And you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about."

"Believe me, Mr. Potter, there will be an investigation into the activities of Dementors," spoke Madam Bones, "From your testimony here, as well as the testimony of your peers, it does indeed suggest a most unnerving circumstance, one which must not be allowed to repeat."

"Thank you, Madam Bones," spoke Harry, inclining his head. "I know exactly what the statute of Wizarding secrecy means, and I will not knowingly and intentionally violate it, unless there is dire need to do so. With that, I take my leave."

"Not… so… fast… Mr. Potter," spoke Fudge. "How does this trial enact your emancipation?"

"Cornelius, the boy speaks the truth," said Madam Bones, "Had you actually consulted with your staff rather than just plough on ahead with your own agenda, I could have told you."

"That can be changed—"

"No it can't," answered Bones, and Harry smirked. It was nice seeing Fudge on the hot seat.

"Beware of the seeds you sew, Minister," said Harry, and with that, he stepped back to the side benches, Malachai and Bill following.

"I warn you, Cornelius, Mr. Potter has more than a few knives aimed at your back. You will do well to give him a wide berth," said Dumbledore.

"I am not afraid of a 15 year old boy, Dumbledore!" Fudge scowled.

"I would be," said Dumbledore, "You've now made 2 mistakes concerning his affairs. Believe me when I say, he will collect on them when the time comes."

"Are you suggesting Mr. Potter is a danger?" Umbridge simpered.

"Not to the public at large. Those who have truly caused him pain or injustice, on the other hand, I would suggest they tread lightly. The boy has a job to do, and it will not do to get in his way."

"What sort of job might that be? You're not on about You-Know-Who again?" grumbled a heavily-moustached wizard.

"I'm saying exactly that. Mr. Potter IS the boy-who-lived, I need not remind this July body."

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is GONE, Dumbledore, he's not coming back!" Fudge roared.

"We can argue this until we are all blue in the face," spoke Madam Bones, "Reluctantly I must agree, that without some solid evidence, we maintain that position." The other members were getting restless, and Dumbledore took that as a cue. "Very well. I daresay, you will all regret that decision. With that, we take our leave. Good day, Cornelius, Madam Bones, Madam Umbridge." He led Harry and his friends from the court room.

"Harry, I must say, I'm most impressed with the way you handled things in there," Dumbledore praised, as they walked toward the stairs that would take them up to the 9th floor.

"I won't win many friends, but I played—err… hard-ball, as the Muggle expression goes. Fudge tried to walk all over me, and I didn't let him… not like the first time around."

"Indeed. The makings of a politician, I believe."

"Not," said Harry, as they climbed the stairs.

Once again, Dumbledore felt very much in the dark, as Harry led him and his friends through the Department of Mysteries, to the Hall of Prophecies.

"We need isle 97," Harry spoke. It felt rather strange, retracing his steps from what was for him 10 years prior, when he had dragged 5 of his closest friends to the exact same location. "Death Eaters chased us soon as I collected it," Harry spoke.

It took several minutes, but at last they closed on isle 97. "Now look for a tag on one of them—"

"Would this be it?" questioned Bill, gesturing to one of the globes. Exactly as before, in spidery writing was written a date, and below it:

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_And (?) Harry Potter_

"Yes, that's it," said Harry, reaching down, and picking it up. "This is my destiny, what I was born to do."

"But it's not everything, Harry," spoke Bill, putting a hand on his shoulder, while the boy slipped the globe into a pocket.

"No, it's not everything, but it's… I can't ever hope to have a normal life until this… this prophecy is fulfilled." He thought for a moment, then conjured up a globe that looked identical to the one he had just taken.

"A duplicate?" questioned Bill.

"Sort of," answered Harry, "It'll piss Voldemort off when he 'sees' it."

"I don't think I'd want to be a Death Eater in his presence when he views it," said Bill, shaking his head.

"Neither do I. Let's go."

Dumbledore left them at the elevators, speaking about an unscheduled meeting with the minister—Harry smirked at that… it most likely meant 'unscheduled' for the minister. Harry was well aware of how Dumbledore worked.

"Glad he's on our side, all I have to say," said Harry, as the doors to the elevator closed.

"Have to agree with that," Bill spoke, "Fudge is in for a few choice words, I should imagine."

"Well, how'd it go?" questioned Cedric, as soon as they all stepped out of the floo back into the common room.

"As I'd hoped," answered Harry, "Cleared of all charges."

"Harry was amazing," said Bill, "You should think about a political career."

"Not," said Harry, "The snake pit, that's what I compare it to."

"You should've seen Fudge's face, when Harry mentioned the bit about emancipation. Looked like he'd sucked on a lemon. It was most comical."

"So that means you can use your wand… without getting in trouble for it," said Malachai. Harry nodded. "Exactly that."

"Why didn't you get in trouble for using it in here?"

"No magic detectors in here… and we're isolated from the ones around my aunt's house," answered Harry, "But either way, Dumbledore really came through for me. God he can be so Slytherin at times," he chuckled. "And you guys, both of you, thanks."

"Well, I don't think my testimony was all that helpful… Mr. Boardman on the other hand…"

"I only told them what I saw."

"And that's all you needed to do," said Harry, "Fudge didn't want to admit it, but I could see it in his eyes… he had to admit to himself your testimony was pretty accurate, as far as the description of Dementors went. Never mind the reaction of the other members." He blew out a breath. "Really didn't want to repeat all this dragon shit, but I said it before. Fate has it in for me, or something."

"Look at it this way, Harry," noted Bill, "You are a step ahead of where you were last time… you're still a student at Hogwarts."

"True enough. But Fudge definitely knows I'm a threat now. He'll come at me with everything he can."

"And we'll push back just as hard," said Sirius, standing in the doorway to the dining room. "Never mind the damage your letter to Skeeter has already done. Harry, it's likely you won't have to worry about Fudge for too much longer."

"I hope not. Because if it comes down to it I'll visit him in the small hours of the morning with a few memory charms…"

"Harry!" came more than one shocked voice.

"Hey, at least I didn't say I would kill him." And with that, Harry's day actually brightened, as he envisioned spending a few hours alone with the minister… with his wand—or not…

* * *

_I would have gotten this out yesterday, but FanFiction . net seemed to have an issue with the document manager. Of course, I'm not running on any kind of schedule, and make no apologies on my part. I get chapters published when I'm ready to. But as always, thanks for reading, and reviews are definitely appreciated (or flames, if you must)._

_(1) Taken from p. 29 - 30, Order of the Phoenix, Canadian soft-cover edition. Most of it verbatim._

_(2) Taken from p. 34 - 35, Order of the Phoenix, Canadian soft-cover edition. Most of it verbatim._

_(3) Taken from p. 127 – 138, Order of the Phoenix, Canadian soft-cover edition. Some of it verbatim, but also reworked to fit Harry's different attitude._


	17. A Second Prophecy

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __kehlencrow__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CAUTION: __Major spoilers for DH._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Malachai remembers an incident in Gatlin, which sparks a second prophecy about Harry…_

_

* * *

  
_

**17:A SECOND PROPHECY  
Or, Harry's life gets much more complicated**

"Harry," Malachai spoke softly, "D'you remember when you asked about… if I remembered any strange things happening in Gatlin?" The four of them had turned in for the night not long before, the room just barely lit.

"Yeah, of course, what about it?"

"There was this one incident, about a year after we killed all the adults. One afternoon, a group of us spotted an out—a man putting something down one of the old wells. We chased him around a corner, but he just… he just vanished, and there was a loud crack, exactly like how you… how you apparate."

"Sounds like a wizard to me," said Bill, who was spooned against Harry's back. Cedric, meanwhile, lay on the other side, effectively squeezing Harry between them.

"Did you ever see actually what it was?" questioned Harry.

"No… we could never get near it… just like that property I mentioned."

"Muggle-repelling charm," Cedric guessed.

"Sounds like something important was dropped there."

"Like treasure?" Malachai guessed.

"No… yes… err, maybe," Harry mused.

"It could be anything, but like Bill said, something important," said Cedric, "Harry, what if you were MEANT to travel to Gatlin?"

"After what I've seen and done… I could believe that, I guess," Harry spoke, carefully turning over what Malachai had said in his mind.

"Well, you can get back there, can't you?" questioned Bill, "I mean, Fawkes was able to do it twice, was he not?"

"And risk meeting the American Midwest Council of Magic, or the Canadian Ministry—or worse, Isaac?"

"But what if Cedric's right?" Malachai pointed out, "Things happen for a reason, at least that's what I believe."

"And I do too," Harry rebutted, "But is it worth the risk to check out something that may or may not have anything to do with US? I have more than myself to worry about now, I mean, your safety, EVERYONE'S safety here is vital, I'm not about to go gallivanting across dimensions and time spaces just on a whim. That's how people get killed."

"But you can't know that unless… well… unless you actually see for yourself," Bill answered, "I understand your caution, yet, as Cedric just pointed out, perhaps you were meant to be there, to retrieve… whatever that object might be. Never mind the fact all of us are more than adept adult wizards—and don't even THINK about saying we can't join you." Harry could only sigh. Somehow, his inner voice was screaming 'DANGER', yet another was saying there was definitely importance with what Malachai had revealed. "Fine. When we wake, we will return to Gatlin."

They woke sometime later to raised voices coming from the common room. Harry immediately summoned Kreacher. "What's going on?"

"The bl—Weasley parents making ruckus with Master Sirius about the children," answered the elf.

"Harry, let me handle them," Bill offered, but Harry shook his head. "It's my trunk, but I'll need you for support." He stood up, quickly throwing on a tee-shirt and a pair of shorts. "Am I 15 or 26?"

"26, Harry," answered Cedric.

"Couldn't remember which glamour I had applied, bloody hell it's too early for this dragon shit." Molly's shrieks could be heard quite clearly.

"God, that woman can yell," Malachai commented.

"Yes, and the idiots are letting her get up a full head of steam, we better head her off," said Bill, "Ready?"

"Let's go," said Harry.

"TOTALLY IRRISPONSIBLE, HOW CAN HE BE EXPECTED TO TAKE CARE OF TWENTY YOUNG CHILDREN WHEN HE'S STILL ONLY A BOY HIMSELF?!" Molly was shouting. Sirius was standing, glaring back at the Weasley Matriarch, as was Remus (Harry had invited the werewolf in as well not long before, resulting in yet another lengthy explanation of things). Professor McGonagall was present, although she only remained silent at this point.

"Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for that WONDERFUL wake-up call," Harry drawled, "Now what exactly is going on that you decided to invade my home and start this most unpleasant triad? The children you speak of ARE still asleep—" The opening of a door in the corridor proved otherwise.

"Harry? What's wrong? What's all the shouting about?" came Seth's concerned voice.

"S'all right," answered Malachai, "We have it under control." The door closed.

"Harry, dear, we are only concerned," said Molly, lowering her voice, looking momentarily ashamed. This was, after all, Harry's home. Everyone knew that at this point.

"Look. Thank you for your concern, but really. Look at me. I'm not 15. I'm 26, going on 27 at the end of the month. I think I can handle a room full of children. Never mind the fact there are several more adults around that are more than willing to help out—and Mrs. Weasley, I'd be honoured if you would be one of those."

"I just think… it would be better if they had proper homes, Harry."

"Proper homes? You have to be kidding, Mrs. Weasley," answered Malachai, "We have been through a most horrible experience, TOGETHER. How in the world do you think it would make the situation better, should we be separated, and dropped onto the doorstep of strangers? Did you not think of that, before invading our—Harry's private home?" Harry had to smirk at that, while once again, Molly cast her eyes on the ground. The boy had a strong argument.

"Indeed, Molly, as we have tried to explain to you, I believe Harry has things well in hand here. We all must realize, he is not a boy anymore," spoke McGonagall, "Our continuing to treat him as such will do no one any good."

"Thank you professor," said Harry, "Now since we're up, would you all like to stay for breakfast? Perhaps sit down and discuss this in a more reasonable fashion?"

"I will have to decline, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, "I was in the middle of setting out breakfast myself, when Molly floo'ed me saying there was a problem here."

"Great. Just great," said Harry, darkly, "Sorry it was interrupted, professor. Mrs. Weasley, how many people did you bother this morning about this 'problem'? Look, I again appreciate your concern, but… to drag others in to badger me and berate me on my… my activities? I really don't like that. If you were concerned about something, talk to me adult to adult, not treat me like a child. Let's face it, I've never been a child."

"I know, Harry, it's just so hard not to see you that way."

"Please try. There are things I have to do to prevent the future I come from. Like I said to more than a few people now, I need allies and strong supporters, not sycophants and those who want to coddle me and protect me from the real world."

"Which means, if Harry says he needs to do something, it's our responsibility to not say he can't, but to ask how we can help," said Cedric. There were nods from the others, save for Molly.

"And it's my responsibility to accept help when it's offered. I've got a job to do, but I don't have to do it alone."

"Mum, Harry would appreciate your help, but not your interference," said Bill.

"Are… are they being schooled at all?" questioned Molly. Malachai nodded, explaining, "We gathered textbooks from our school the day before we left. We're teaching the younger ones."

"Home schooling?"

"Yeah, better than nothing, though, wouldn't you say mum?" Bill pointed out. Molly had to concede the point.

"And by the way, it was the children themselves that asked about that," said Harry, "They had not been in school for 3 years."

"Sooner rather than later, proper teachers will need to be located, Harry," Remus pointed out, "The Muggle school system is a fair bit different."

"Something we'll have to settle before September," Harry decided, "Now again, like I said, Mrs. Weasley, I appreciate your concern. And I would love it if you'd help out… but rushing in and making decisions FOR me, thinking I'm not capable of making them myself… that just pisses me off."

"Harry, you must understand, dear, I do have great difficulty not seeing you as this small, 12 year old boy standing in my kitchen one particular morning after my sons went gallivanting across the country in my husband's enchanted car." She smiled, but her eyes glistened with tears.

"That boy is long gone, Mrs. Weasley. He died 11 years ago."

With breakfast gone, and everyone off doing their own thing, Harry again exited the trunk, to stand in his bedroom at No. 4, Privet Drive. He collected his trunk, called on Fawkes, and was quickly flashed back to Gatlin.

As soon as he landed, he put up some strong wards that would prevent intrusion, both Muggle and magical. Most of the charms he was using were better than Auror level, so magical law enforcement would not be paying him a visit here—he still cursed himself for not doing it the first time around. That would have prevented the horrible abduction and maiming on the part of Benjamin. He set the trunk down where he had before, against the wall to the stairwell leading off the roof. The locking charm on the door had dispelled with his absence, so he cast the charm again, then returned to the trunk.

About 10 minutes later, Malachai had led Harry, Cedric, and Bill to a well on a farm right on the edge of town. The house and the barn had been destroyed by the fire, and in fact, for miles in all directions, the ground was scorched.

"The demon is gone," said Malachai, gesturing to the destroyed corn field, "If it were still present, the corn would have began to come back, even now."

"Whatever was put in this well, however, blimey!" Bill exclaimed, "The residual magic is almost—"

"Intoxicating," Harry finished. He too, could feel the brilliant power being radiated from whatever had been dropped in the well.

"It's like a warm feeling," said Malachai, getting nods from the others.

"Magical ropes then?" questioned Cedric, gesturing with his wand, conjuring up a number of thick ropes.

"This will make it easier to get down, though," said Harry, gesturing with his hand. A number of harnesses and straps appeared.

"What might those be?" questioned Cedric.

"Muggle climbing gear." He flicked his hand at the well, and a bolt of bright light sailed into the abyssal below.

"Most of the wells here are deep," said Malachai.

"Whoever placed the artefact here knew what they were doing," said Bill, "Strong Muggle-repelling charms, an intent ward, disillusionment charms… that's just around the well." He flicked his wand at the well, muttering several incantations. "So far nothing dangerous."

"Good to know. All right. Cedric, take Malachai back to the trunk and come right back, we'll wait."

"But…" Malachai began, but Harry shook his head. "Look, I don't want you standing around up here alone. We still don't know who's around here, if anyone. And who knows what will happen when we actually get to the artefact."

"Fine." Cedric grabbed Malachai by his shirt sleeve, and they popped away.

"I know he wanted to… to be here, but… better safe than sorry. He's got no way of protecting himself against magical threats yet," said Harry, with hesitation. Just then, Cedric re-appeared. "I suggested he go help with the younger kids for now."

"Good. Shall we then?"

Malachai had not been kidding when he said the wells were deep. It felt like 300 feet, easily, along with 50 feet of water. Harry knew it would have taken Muggle divers to get near whatever it was that lay at the bottom.

The object itself resembled a large cylinder, for lack of a better description. The magical power being radiated from it was intoxicating. Almost painful, in some ways. He could feel his magical core reacting with it, seeming to gain a boost. "Careful casting magic, it's actually affecting our own cores," Harry warned through his bubble-charm about his face.

"What? I thought… that sort of thing was impossible," answered Cedric.

"A damping-field then?" suggested Bill. Harry nodded, gesturing with his wand—damping fields were advanced magic, after all. The power being radiated from the object diminished by half. He then reached out to touch it, but Bill snatched his arm away. "NO! Are you barking mad? The amount of power radiating from this thing might kill you Harry! Lift it remotely, mate." Harry nodded, realizing the curse-breaker was right. After all, Bill handled things far more dangerous than what lay in front of them, half-buried in the silt. He conjured up a strong box, on which Bill placed a number of containment charms, then the object was levitated into it. The box was then sealed. Harry nodded, shrunk the box down, and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans.

Once back up above ground, they cast drying charms on themselves, then returned to the trunk. They were immediately met with a slightly put out werewolf. "Why won't the floo work, Harry?"

"It will in a minute. We're back in Gatlin for a minute. Bill, I'll let you handle this," said Harry, passing over the miniaturized box. "Be right back." He popped away.

"It would be a thought to perhaps warn others when you're doing such things," Remus admonished.

"Forgive us," said Bill, "But the fewer who knew what we were actually doing, the better. You know how Harry is these days."

"I suppose I do," Remus agreed, "But I do have to point out, things work both ways. Harry hates things being kept from him, but so do we. He has to trust us."

"But professor, you have to earn his trust. Realize he isn't the same Harry you're used to."

"It's just Remus, Cedric. And I do understand your point, but all the same, you mustn't just run off without letting others know what you're up to. People will worry."

"Coming from one of the most dangerous Marauders there, Moony," spoke James, from his portrait, with a smirk.

"You wound me, Prongs."

"Right, sure. It was us who executed all those wonderful pranks, yet it was Moony here who was the master planner and strategist. Mr. Prongs would like to point out Prongs Jr. most definitely knows what he's doing."

"Mr. Moony concedes defeat," said Remus, although it was lightly said.

"And Padfoot accepts Moony's concession," said Sirius, stepping into the common room.

"So what was so important you decided to return to Gatlin?" questioned Remus.

"This," said Bill, holding the miniaturized box in front of him. Even in its shrunken form, everyone could feel the magic radiating from it.

"Malachai mentioned it last night, something being dropped in a well where he came from," said Cedric, "We decided to look into it."

"We still don't know what it is, but it's radiating an incredible amount of magic."

"We can feel it from here," said Lily. Just then, Harry reappeared. "We're back at Privet Drive," he announced.

"Good, then maybe we can have a look at the object of your mischief," said Remus.

"My room, then. Where did Malachai get to? He'll want to see it too."

"I think he's in the study, dear," said Lily. Harry nodded, summoning the portrait from the wall.

Harry decided, since Malachai was already in the study, that's where they would look at the object. It was placed at the centre of the table, and the device removed from the box. Indeed, it was just a cylinder about a foot long, and about 8 inches round.

"It looks exactly like a shell casing from a large ammunition round," said Malachai, reaching out to touch it. Bill swatted his hand away, shaking his head.

"We still don't know what it is, if it could be dangerous or not," said Cedric.

"The power coming from it is astounding," said Sirius, gesturing at it with his wand.

"No offensive magic," said Bill, "Don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Considering the last time I did something like that… well…" said Harry, remembering his encounter with the strange device which was resting on a dresser in his room. He held a hand out, bringing it close, but not directly touching it. He could feel the power surging, as if daring him to touch it. Somehow, he knew touching it could very well be fatal. "It's as if… as if this is a magical core itself—" a yellow arc of energy flashed between the cylinder and Harry's hand, literally lifting him off his feet.

A flurry of visions and memories that flashed before Harry's eyes, as he sailed through the air, to be slammed against the wall. A dark shape, dropping something down the well in Gatlin… images of a similar dark shape, stepping aboard a large ship with 4 chimneys, descending to its lowest decks, and stowing a box out of sight, after verifying its contents: dozens of pieces of parchment… yet another dark shape, this time appearing before a massive castle of Mediterranean design, to cross the land, and hide yet another object in the clearing of a forest… another ship with 4 chimneys, although Harry instantly recognized it—the titanic? …another dark shape, hiding an object in another well, this time in the shadow of another large castle…

The visions continued for several minutes, before Harry at last regained control and came to. He had been moved to a couch, with Bill and Cedric at his side. The others were of course not far away, and all seemed to be relieved as he regained consciousness.

"All right, there, Harry?" questioned Cedric. Harry nodded slowly, then gestured with his hand, producing several small vials. "I don't know what just happened, but… better to show you rather than try and explain it." He began pulling memories out, storing them in the vials. "Malachai. Collect my pensieve, please. It should be on the dresser." The teen nodded, and stood up.

As he remembered, the pensieve was indeed on the dresser in their room. He made to collect said object, but bumped the object behind it, knocking it to the floor with a loud CLUNK.

"Shit," he cursed, putting the pensieve back on the dresser, and collecting the object from the floor. He set it back on the dresser, then once again picked up the pensieve. He returned to the study, where everyone had again gathered around the conference table.

"Thanks," said Harry, as Malachai placed the pensieve in front of him, "I still don't know what this means but—"

"Harry, please come quick!" Job was standing at the door to the study, looking quite rattled. "It's my sister, she's not well."

Their room was directly across from the study, and as Harry stepped into it, he already knew what was about to happen. The young girl was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a glassy look to her eyes. She began to speak, but it was not her own voice they heard. _"…a long-hidden power once again becomes known, and the four from the one will have the power to vanquish the great threat... lead by the one who twice vanquished the dark lord…"_

Harry felt numb as he made his way back across the hall to the study. Another prophecy now hung over his head. Truly, the universe hated him, that was all there was to it.

"Harry? What's the matter?" questioned Hermione. She and Ron had just arrived from Grimmauld Place.

"I think… I think I know why I've come back… from the future," he stammered, slumping into his seat at the table. He then repeated the new prophecy, just barely keeping control of his emotions. The bushy-haired witch quickly scribbled it down on a piece of parchment, while Cedric stepped out of the room.

"But… what could be worse than you-know-who?" Ron challenged.

"Loads of things, Ron," answered Harry, "Muggles have truly scary technology, and trust me, I've seen it at its worst."

"Here, take this," said Cedric, as he stepped into the room, offering Harry a potion.

"Calming draught, I hope." Cedric nodded, and Harry downed the offered potion. "Thanks."

Even with the potion, it still took several minutes before Harry was able to continue. Ron did have a point, after all… a greater threat than Voldemort? The possibilities were endless. He mentally cursed the fates—they could have been more specific. At least with Trelawney's prophecy, things were pretty clear.

Reviewing the memory of his visions was not much of a help, although Bill did point out the memory of Gatlin.

"Maybe you're meant to visit those places and times," Hermione suggested, "Like Bill pointed out, the object placed in Gatlin… and that box of parchment. I think that will probably tell us what we need to know."

"But how do we GET there?" Harry snapped, "Bloody hell, I still don't know how we ended up in Gatlin in the FIRST place… it was an accident!"

"You don't know that for sure, mate," Ron pointed out.

"And it would help if we could actually know the places where those things were hidden," said Cedric, "I mean, the ship—the first one—shouldn't be that difficult to track down, right?"

"They were Muggle passenger ships," said Hermione, "The Titanic is familiar, but the other one… I can visit a public library."

"Great, do you mind?" questioned Cedric. Hermione nodded, standing, tugging at Ron's shirt sleeve. He gave a look of defeat, and Harry had to smile. Yes, those two were already well on the way to becoming an item.

"Glad everyone wants to help," said Harry, watching his two best friends leaving the study, "This is confusing as hell… too much more of this and I'll be reserving a bed in the long-term care ward at St. Mungo's."

"We'll keep you grounded, Harry," said Bill, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

"Trust me, I'll need it, I think."

"Right. Back to the visions, and specifically places," said Cedric, "Importantly, two castles. One of us should have a look in the stacks here, and at Hogwarts. Perhaps either one or both castles were magical."

"Perhaps I should take care of searching at Hogwarts," offered Remus, "Students aren't supposed to be in the castle over the summer. It's been a long-standing rule." Harry nodded, and Remus quickly left the room. Cedric, meanwhile, disappeared into the floor shelves, which contained a quickly-growing collection, thanks to several sources. Sirius was not penniless, after all.

"I gave Sarah a calming draught," said Malachai, stepping into the room, "I hope you do not mind."

"No, good. She's all right?"

"Still startled. Seth is looking in on her and her brother."

"I'll need to have a word with her later—Merlin's pants I didn't expect this so soon!"

"Well, it only makes sense, Harry, she's being bombarded by magical stimulus," Bill pointed out.

"But to utter a prophecy about ME?!"

"At least it's something memorable," said Bill, with a shrug.

"That's NOT helping," Harry moaned, frustrated, "Why can't this shit happen to someone ELSE for a change—hey, how about Fudge get a dose of it for a change?! Better yet, how about we trade places!"

"Your getting angry about it will not help Sarah," Malachai pointed out. Harry begrudgingly nodded. Of course the teen was right. "Gonna need to replenish the potions stores soon," Harry spoke, trying to drag his mind away from the latest life-changing crisis.

"A potions lab would be ideal," Bill suggested, "We could make many things ourselves."

"If I can squeeze in another room… the trunk's just about expanded to its limit now," said Harry, "Really need that second trunk, I think." He looked up at the clock that hung over the door. Almost noon hour. "I need to go to Diagon Alley again. who's coming? I can get my broom fixed while I'm at it."

Just under an hour later, Harry, Bill, and Malachai returned to No. 4 Privet Drive, with a second trunk resting in the pocket of Harry's pants, along with his then repaired broom (The shop was pretty quick with it, Harry was impressed). No sooner than they had popped into the room, when the door burst open and Vernon stood in the doorway, brandishing a cricket bat. "Oh… it's just you…" he stared at the two red-heads who also stood in the room. "And… who are you?!"

"Bill Weasley, sir."

"And I am Malachai."

"Well—err… how did you get in here? I don't remember—"

"We apparated in, uncle Vernon," answered Harry, "I'm doing my best not to disturb you guys while I'm here… I'll put a silencing charm back on the door so you won't hear us. And… I haven't forgotten about the garden… just some stuff has come up—Bill, remind me to make a floo call to Neville in a bit, see if he might like to make a few Galleons."

"Now you listen here, boy—" Vernon began, but Harry cut across him, saying, "Remember what I promised?" he gestured with his wand, turning a blank page of parchment on the floor into a butterfly which lit over to the window sill. "There's a good side and a bad side to that. Which would you prefer?"

"But… err… well…" Vernon sputtered, then turned on his heel, and left abruptly. Harry gestured once with his hand, closing the door, and again, placing a strong silencing charm on it.

"You have them trained," Bill grinned, to which Harry nodded enthusiastically, saying, "They avoid me, and I avoid them. Of course, it's much easier with my trunk. Okay, let's go."

Back inside the trunk, Harry placed the new one on the floor, and began inspecting it. This one was a much more simple design, with only an empty room inside. It was almost a third larger than the original, however, logic dictating it could be expanded by a third more. Equally impressive, this new trunk could be stored inside the original. He already had a good idea how to set up a portal system, so the two could be seamlessly connected. He wasted no time starting work on it.

He was interrupted, when Hermione stepped out of the floo, Ron following only seconds later. "You bought a second trunk," she said, noticing the object of Harry's attention.

"We stepped out around lunch time," said Bill.

"Well, what did you find out?" questioned Harry.

"Loads," answered Hermione, taking a seat on one of the couches, "I checked with both the London Public Library, and made a quick inquiry to the archives at the Ministry."

"Quick? There was nothing quick about it, Hermione," Ron moaned, "Bloody hell this woman's a fright when she gets going." That earned the red-head a swat from Hermione, and a smirk from Harry. "As I was saying, Ronald," Hermione continued, casting a glare at Ron, and pulling out a page of parchment, "I checked both Muggle and magical. The ship in your vision was called the Aquitania. She was built in 1913, began service the following year, and was sold for scrap in 1950. This is where it gets weird, and why I cross-referenced it with records at the ministry of magic. On February 24, 1950, she plain vanished from the breakers' yard—just three days after she arrived. I mean, literally disappeared, more than a hundred Muggles witnessed it."

"What did the ministry say about it?"

"Unspeakables combed the yard from top to bottom, and found the residue from a very strong magical source. There were also traces of a Muggle-repelling charm in the berth where she vanished from. The Ministry concluded it was a theft of magical nature, although the company she had been sold to received a bank draft for 125,005 pounds the same day—ironically five pounds more than the company had paid for the ship. The Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee was kept busy for several days, no record of what they suggested."

"Muggle-worthy Excuse Committee?" questioned Malachai.

"They come up with non-magical answers to… well, when a load of Muggles are exposed to blatant displays of magic," answered Bill, "a spectacular breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"Such as this was, by the sound of it," said Harry.

"Mate… I think you did it… or… err… will do it," said Ron, "The visions you showed us… if you've already been to Gatlin…"

"So not only do I have to go to some strange time and universe, now I have to do things exactly or—I need a headache potion…" Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, as his head was already swimming with the insane rollercoaster that lie at some point in his future. Scratch that, it looked like the Aquitania was in his own universe, just a different time.

"If we're dealing with a ship… perhaps we should collect floor plans of it, if it's possible," Bill suggested, "It won't do to end up getting lost on board."

"He's right," said Hermione, "I can keep searching for those."

"But… what the hell am I gonna do with a passenger ship? An old one for that matter? Why would I take it?" Harry sounded frustrated. "How big is it?"

"About 900 feet long," answered the bushy-haired witch, again glancing at the parchment, "97 feet wide, and 9 decks. She was bigger than the Titanic."

"Again, WHY? Can't we just… well, find whatever it was that was hidden and be done with it?"

"We won't know until we get there," answered Bill, with a shrug, "Best we can do is get any information we can on it. What were the circumstances when she arrived in port and so on."

"She had just been turned over to the breakers the previous morning," said Hermione. She thought for a moment. "Harry, maybe this is something you need to speak to Dumbledore about. Besides, he should be told about the new prophecy."

"I just… no, you're right," said Harry, standing. He glanced at the clock over the fireplace. It was going on 4 pm. He knelt in front of the grate, tossing a pinch of floo powder into it, then called out, "Hogwarts, headmaster's office!", and stuck his face into the green flames.

The office was empty, but the portrait of Armando Dippet greeted Harry. "Good afternoon, Mr. Potter."

"Sir, where is professor Dumbledore?"

"At Grimmauld Place. Is it urgent?"

"No, I can call there myself, thanks." Professor Dippet nodded, and Harry pulled his face back out of the fire. He then called Grimmauld Place. He was in luck this time, as the headmaster happened to be in the kitchen. Moments later, the aged wizard stepped out of the fire. "Has something happened?" he questioned.

"You could say that, professor. Come into the study and I'll show you."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, carefully turning over what Harry had shown him in his head. Another prophecy? Most unsettling, indeed! Yet, Harry seemed to be taking it all in stride, handling it quite maturely—of course, this was a 26 year old he was now dealing with, not a boy of only 15.

"I believe then, that is why Remus is currently in the library?" said Dumbledore, finally.

"Yes sir, he offered to look into the two castle references and determine whether there may be a magical connection or not," answered Harry.

"Ah, a logical conclusion. You would be correct in assuming that, Harry. A good number of ancient castles in fact did have magical owners."

"But… really, did I need this?" Harry sounded frustrated. "I still have one prophecy to deal with, did I really need another?"

"Harry. You're a strong wizard," said Bill, "You'll make it through."

"Thanks for the confidence. Me, I'm not so sure."

"Oh come off it, Harry!" Cedric exclaimed, "You've already faced you-know-who 4 times and survived! How many witches and wizards can say that? Besides, I think if the universe didn't think you were worthy, you wouldn't have been saddled with it."

"Indeed, Cedric, my thoughts exactly," said Dumbledore, "It certainly does give an explanation as to why Harry ended up in another dimension for several days."

"Thing is, it's frustrating—what if what happened last time… me just disappearing in the middle of something… it happens again?"

"This time we will better understand what's happened," Hermione pointed out, "It won't be any less of a shock, of course."

"Never mind the fact the landing was rather painful, and not just for me," said Harry, gesturing to Malachai, who sat across the table. "He almost died. I'd rather not repeat that."

"I can relate to your frustration, Harry," spoke Dumbledore, "You've certainly had an eventful summer thus far, I must say." He gestured at the cylinder which lay at the centre of the table. "This alone is an astounding find. I do recall mention of something such as this during my youth. A most distressing part of my youth, come to think of it."

"Sorry about your sister, sir," said Harry, which gave the aged wizard a start.

"You know about Arianna?"

"Your brother told me about it," said Harry, "Skeeter published a most vile book of lies about you, and I had to… I needed to know the truth."

"Then you also know of my relationship with Gellert Grindelwald," spoke Dumbledore. Harry nodded, and the headmaster continued, "During our research for the deathly hallows, we came across references to numerous other extremely powerful artefacts, including a particular reference to a 'Temporal Displacement Device'."

"Temporal Displacement Device? That sounds something like a time-turner," Hermione mused. Dumbledore nodded, and continued, "My conclusions as well." He gestured with his wand, conjuring up a tin. "Lemon drop, anyone?" he took a candy from the tin, and popped it into his mouth, as did a few others.

"So this device… could be the power the prophecy refers to," Harry guessed. "Could this be a piece of it then?" He gestured at the cylinder at the centre of the table, which still radiated strong waves of magical energy.

"Sir, what are the deathly hallows?" questioned Hermione, abruptly changing the subject.

"I've got two of them now," said Harry, "There are three items that legend says can, if united, defeat death. My invisibility cloak, the resurrection stone—which is still affixed to one of Voldemort's Horcruxes…"

"And my wand," finished Dumbledore, again producing his wand, "The Elder wand."

"Also known as the Wand of Destiny, or the Death Stick," said Harry, "It's the most powerful wand in existence. It's supposed to be unbeatable. Ollivander told me about it about 10 years ago, at least by my time. Of course, the wand didn't work all that well for Voldemort, because I was the rightful owner of it, but he still left a swath of destruction."

"Yes, I quite imagine he would," said Dumbledore, stowing his wand again.

"His bloody snake. That's all that stood in the way of me finishing him for good," spoke Harry, his voice barely above a whisper, "I'm afraid… that will repeat itself. Now with this second prophecy… bloody hell."

"So that's why you-know-who's spell backfired… just before you came back from… the future?" guessed Ron. Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, exactly. The Elder wand won't duel against its master, and Voldemort didn't know that. So when we duelled the last time… he essentially killed himself."

"With any luck, that won't need to repeat," said Bill, "As long as he doesn't get his body back."

"While I'm thinking of it. I need to speak to Augusta Longbottom. Something Sirius mentioned about taking financial action against the Lestranges. More to the point, a Horcrux is being kept in their vault."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore, "If Madam Longbottom cooperates, you would be able to obtain it without the rather dangerous escapade from your last time around."

"Exactly." Just then, Dobby popped into the room. "Supper is being ready it is!" he announced. He had been brought into the trunk to deal with the larger number of people around. It was stark contrast to the first time around, as both elves seemed to get along quite well.

"Great, thanks Dobby. Professor, please join us," said Harry, as the elf popped away.

"Don't mind if I do."

"I can see a strong resemblance to Hogwarts," Dumbledore spoke, as the meal was served. The seating arrangement had been changed yet again, and now featured 5 oval tables with 6 seats per table. Most of the seats were occupied.

"And you would be right, sir," said Harry, "We had it configured exactly like it at first, but it gets awkward looking down the table and so on, so this is what we came up with instead. I like being able to face the speaker when someone's talking. There's also a few extra spaces, if we get visitors and so on."

"And so they can carry on with most inappropriate conversations," Hermione scowled, casting a dirty look at Bill and Cedric, who sat on either side of Harry.

"And you two are sweet as angels," Harry retorted, gesturing to Ron and Hermione, sitting opposite.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ms. Granger, I assure you I recognize a famous Weasley blush, and it's certainly not Mr. Boardman causing my brother to do it," said Bill.

"You see what I mean, professor?" said Hermione, although she was turning rather red herself.

"Ah, the joys of youth," Dumbledore mused, although he was certainly amused at the antics. Indeed, it was good to see Harry being light for a change, laughing amongst his friends. The aged professor was well aware of the future the boy had come from, where darkness had all but consumed him. Now, with this new prophecy hanging over the boy's head, it would be much more of a fight to keep the darkness from taking over.

**END OF PART I**

**

* * *

**

_AUTHOR NOTES: So. Harry's had a bit of a wild ride the first part of the summer, now, hasn't he? We now know at least part of the why, but the means is still uncertain, at least as far as Harry knows._

_It probably comes across as a little strange that a massive passenger ship, or two of them, become involved in this sordid tale, but I do plan to make it interesting, so stay tuned. Harry's visit with the famous Aquitania is indeed next on the docket, as will be covered in part 2. I have some big plans for the ship, I can tell you that._


	18. II: The Door Goes Where?

_Shout-outs to reviewers: __cinnamon-shake, jumping-jo, and StoryTagger__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_DISCLAIMER: The characters are not mine, nor are parts of the plot. This is written purely for my amusement, I earn nothing financially by its production. I give a nod to JK Rowling, Stephen King, and C. S. Lewis, whose sandboxes I borrow._

_CHAPTER WARNINGS: Slash/fluff._

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Starting off part 2 of the story, Harry celebrates his 15__th__ …err… 27__th__ birthday; the Fred and George's latest invention might have far reaching effects;_

**HARRY POTTER****  
AND THE  
TEMPORAL BOUNDARY INVASIONS**

**PART II: "RELICS OF THE PAST"**

"_...a long-hidden power once again becomes known, and the four from the one will have the power to vanquish the great threat... lead by the one who twice vanquished the dark lord..."_ – Prophecy spoken by 8-year old Sarah Gilman, July 1995.

**18: THE DOOR GOES WHERE?****  
Or, the twins' latest invention has promising uses**

Harry was awoken by someone planting soft kisses on his neck, along his jawbone, and finally on his lips. He opened his eyes to meet soft grey ones, dancing with amusement. He felt someone else planting kisses on his opposite shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Harry," spoke Cedric.

"Indeed, happy birthday, mate," said Bill, and now both faces filled his vision.

"Thanks, guys!" Harry grinned, "Best birthday present today, I think."

"Oh… um, Happy birthday, Harry," came Malachai's sleepy voice from the opposite side of the bed.

"So now I have to wonder, was this wake-up call planned?" said Harry, as he sat up. Bill quickly passed him his glasses. "Thanks."

"Mum probably has a party planned for you this afternoon at Grimmauld Place."

"The first time around, I would have said no… but now… it's been quite some time since I was able to celebrate something. My birthday in itself, not so much… my friends and my loves on the other hand, that's something worth celebrating."

"Indeed, isn't that the truth," Bill agreed.

"Right, let's get cleaned up. There's something I plan on getting for myself today, and that involves a trip to an eye doctor," said Harry.

"Well, there is a place that specializes in magical implants in Diagon Alley," said Bill, "Although—"

"No, I wouldn't know about it," answered Harry, "By the time I actually wanted to do something about my eyes, many places in Diagon Alley were gone… same for Knockturn Alley for that matter, as dodgy a place as it was… or is, should I say."

"I'll show you the place after we have breakfast," Bill offered.

After they ate breakfast (and Harry was inundated with birthday wishes), a slightly larger group departed for Diagon Alley through the floo. Harry had planned on only having Bill and perhaps Cedric join him, but Hermione would have none of it. So, it was the golden trio plus three who invaded the alley that morning. Remus also joined the group, insisting at least one extra Order member be present, despite Harry's protests to the contrary.

The group split up once they arrived in the alley, with Hermione dragging Ron and Remus off toward Flourish & Blotts, while Harry, Cedric, Bill, and Malachai headed off to the far end of the alley, where a number of smaller storefronts were set up, including Ollivander's. On the way, the group passed No. 93 Diagon Alley, an at present vacant building, and Harry had to grin.

"What?" questioned Bill, seeing Harry's expression.

"Something about the future and your twin brothers," answered the boy-turned-man, "I won't say much more than that."

"Phinias' House of Magical Enhancements?" Harry read the sign over the shop, nearly the last on the street. The place had all sorts of strange gadgets and devices on display in the shop windows, including an identical prosthetic to what Mad-Eye Moody had.

"Just about anything you can imagine as far as enhancements for witches and wizards in need," said Bill, as the group stepped into the shop. Harry was hesitant at first, but followed anyway.

"Ah, good morning—Mr. Potter! What can I do for you?" spoke an elderly gentleman, surprised, coming out from behind the counter.

"I need to get rid of these," said Harry, gesturing to his glasses, "Bill here says you might be able to help."

"Help, yes, of course!" He gestured with his wand, which he produced, causing several items to pop up on the counter. "May I see your glasses?"

"Right." Harry passed the shop keeper his glasses, which he placed in one of the strange gadgets he had summoned.

"Hmmmm… when was the last time you had any sort of eye examination?"

"I don't remember… it was a while ago," answered Harry.

"Very well, then." The shop keeper gestured with his wand again. "Hold still while I conduct a test." Harry nodded, and the wizard gestured once, muttering an incantation, which caused a slight tingling sensation around his eyes. A series of numbers started wafting from the tip of the wizard's wand, which was also being jotted down quickly by a quill working by itself.

"Can we trust that?" questioned Cedric.

"Yes, it's a dicta-quill," answered the shop keeper.

"That vile Skeeter woman used a quill similar to that one."

"A quick-quotes quill, I should imagine," the shop keeper spoke darkly, "Most inappropriate for something as important as this. Right, that should just about do it. Now I would assume you want something other than glasses?"

"If you can."

"I can do exactly that. I was shown something Muggles use in place of glasses sometimes, but being a wizard, I know we can do better. They are based on the same principal, except that they are spelled to auto-correct. So, as your prescription changes, they will adjust."

"Exactly what I need," said Harry, sounding impressed.

"Add to that extra comfort charms, auto cleaning, and so on, they have none of the inconveniences that plague what you might get in the Muggle world."

"How much will it cost?"

"200 galleons per eye," answered the shop keeper.

"A little expensive, but that's fine. We'll pop over to Gringotts, if you don't mind getting started."

"Very well, Mr. Potter."

The magical contacts he ended up with were exactly as he had hoped for. Unlike their Muggle counterparts, as the shopkeeper explained, they were enhanced with comfort charms, self-lubricating and self-cleaning charms, making it unnecessary to remove them once they were inserted. They were also designed to automatically compensate, should his eyesight change.

"Can't they just… well, cast a spell on your eyes and fix it, though?" questioned Malachai, as they headed back to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Oh, if only, mate," said Bill, "No, there's limits to what magic can fix. Flaws we're born with and so on, no, we can't really do much to fix it for good."

"But we can always do stuff to fix it temporarily and so on," said Harry, "You've seen Mad-eye's magical eye, right?" Malachai nodded.

"Unnerving, that thing is," Cedric muttered, as they stepped through the brick archway back into the pub.

They ended up waiting an extra half-hour for the others, which ended up a waste of time, as Remus' Patronus found them. "We've gone to the Muggle library, see you back at home," it said. Harry only nodded, and the group used the floo to return to the trunk.

Stepping out of the fireplace into the common room, they found Snape talking to Lily. That meant—

"Potter," said Draco. He was seated on one of the couches, a potions text book open in his lap.

"'morning, professor, Draco," said Harry. Snape had taken Draco to his private residence for protection, and Dumbledore had placed the property under a Fidelius charm. However, if the professor left the residence, it was decided the boy be taken along for his safety. It had resulted in numerous visits to the trunk.

"I guess I should wish you a happy birthday," said Draco, his voice absent of the usual sarcasm and disdain.

"Thanks. Been a good one so far, I guess," said Harry, gesturing to himself, re-asserting his older appearance.

"You fixed your eyes?" questioned Lily. Harry nodded, "Magical contacts. They were expensive, but worth it in the end. One less liability in a duel. It happened to me several times where my opponent summoned my glasses."

"Yes, a smart move," Snape agreed.

"What are your plans now?" questioned Lily.

"Haven't decided. Probably just relax for a bit, get used to my contacts. They do feel rather strange, after all." Just then, a dark owl swooped in from the entry hall, to land on the drawing table.

"It's a Gringotts owl," said Bill. At that, the bird turned to him, expectantly. He quickly retrieved the letter attached to its leg, and read it. "Shit. I have to go. They need my assistance yesterday."

"Be safe," said Harry, wrapping the red head in a hug.

"'Course I will! I'll see you tonight for the party." With that, Bill activated the floo, and vanished. At the same time, Cedric leaned over, and whispered something in Malachai's ear. The boy nodded, and headed off for the stairs.

"Harry," said Cedric, "Let's go… well, relax for a bit." Harry knew EXACTLY what his boyfriend had in mind, and there was no hesitation.

"God I missed doing that," said Harry, a goofy grin on his face. Both he and Cedric were tangled in the sheets of the bed, both panting, slick with sweat, among other things. It had indeed been too long since Harry had been able to truly appreciate the other Tri-Wizard champion. 11 years to be precise, and given the fact there had been so much going on, this was the first opportunity they had to be truly intimate.

"Y'know, Ced," said Harry, "We have to do a threesome."

"If that's what you want."

"But if you're not comfortable—"

"I'll try it… something new and all… never mind the fact Bill IS a handsome bloke in his own right." Cedric leaned in, and planted a few soft kisses on Harry's forehead, centering around his cursed scar.

"He's amazing. A little adventurous, but that was one of the things I liked about him. Willing to try just about anything once."

"And what about you?"

"Maybe not so much," answered Harry, "But all considered, not too much I'm afraid of either."

"Touché."

That evening, even though it was a festive affair, Harry didn't feel much like celebrating. His birthday had never been all that happy a time, and if anything, days marking dark events in recent years. Voldemort knew his birth date, and had ensured it was memorable, for the wrong reasons. Harry certainly tried to tell himself that now things would be different, but it had little effect.

An incident exactly four years prior was particularly haunting, as twenty-three Muggles had been murdered. As ugly as that was, they all had one thing in common: green eyes. With each one, Voldemort's familiar message, written in blood: 'You can't save them all, Harry.'

Harry did the best he could to push those memories aside, drawing on more pleasant thoughts, but it was a losing battle. He excused himself from the boisterous party shortly before nine o'clock, consumed a dreamless sleep potion, and lay down. There would be no way he would make it through the night without it.

Following breakfast the next morning, Harry turned his attention back to the journal he had 'borrowed' from Dumbledore. He was actually surprised the headmaster had not asked for it back—the aged wizard HAD to know he had it by now, right? Either way, it was only right he return it, and so he spent the rest of the morning copying the pages. The copies he was producing were in fact far better than when he had started, and he only needed to glance at the odd cylinder resting on the nightstand to know why.

His work was interrupted just before lunch by two excited twins.

"Harry! We might have something that will, err… keep us connected, should we end up in another dimension again," Fred announced. His twin held what looked like miniature door in his hand—it looked like it belonged in a Muggle dollhouse. At Harry's questioning look, he set it on the floor, and re-enlarged it. "See, we got the idea from the door you charmed that takes us in between the trunks."

"Except," Fred carried on, "This one you can place anywhere. We did a bit of research into how the floo network works."

"So you can imagine, one door leading to many places," said George, "It doesn't solve the problem with the floo, but it can work just as well."

"And, it's much more private than the floo," noted Fred.

"Guys, that's brilliant! But… does it work?"

"We've tested it dozens of times now," said George, "We've placed a door at Grimmauld Place, another at the Burrow, and a couple of them here in the trunk, each of them worked without fail."

"Here, have a go. Before you step through… state your destination, and knock three times. Like so," said George, "The Burrow!" he knocked three times on the door, and opened it. Amazingly, Harry could see the twins' bedroom.

"Wicked!"

"Come on!" George beckoned, dragging Harry through the door. Fred quickly followed.

The twins' room was every bit as chaotic as he remembered it from years before. There was no mistake, he had indeed travelled to the Weasleys' home, and a look out the window confirmed it.

"So… looks like I owe you another sack of galleons," Harry grinned, looking back at the open door.

"Harry?" a voice called, and Bill then stood in the doorway. "What the hell?!"

"Your brothers have been rather creative," Harry laughed, seeing Bill's shocked expression.

"Flies, brother, flies," said George. Bill only shook his head, stepping through the door to join the others.

"You guys actually did this? Blimey!" said Bill, appraising the work.

"And this isn't the only place we can go," said Fred, closing the door. He spoke, "No. 12, Grimmauld Place!" and knocked on the door. He opened it to reveal their temporary room at Grimmauld Place.

"This is absolutely incredible," said Harry, shaking his head, as the group stepped through.

"How many doors have you created?" questioned Bill.

"This one and the one back at the Burrow are the only ones outside the trunk right now, but we may add a couple more, if Harry agrees and wants," said George.

"I can think of a couple more places," said Harry.

"What about security?"

"The doors can all be locked or password protected," said Fred.

"And what if a location has more than one door?"

"Ah, in that case you would have to clarify which door you would want. If, say, Grimmauld Place had two doors—one here, and one in the kitchen—you would have to clarify which you needed."

"Exactly like the Muggle phone system," thought Harry, aloud, "The building is the area code of sorts, while the room name would be the number."

"Err… right," said Fred, although he looked confused at the reference.

"I'm truly impressed," said Harry, "The uses for this… it's exactly what we've needed."

"We won't accept payment until it's proven it will work across dimensions," said George, firmly, "And we won't take no for an answer."

"We debated declining your offer altogether, but—"

"We won't look a gift horse in the mouth," George finished.

"Right. Guys, consider anything I give you an investment in your business."

"Ah… wondered where they were getting the money for some of their experiments," said Bill, with a sly grin.

"And not a word to your mum, she'll curse me to atoms," said Harry, although he smiled as he said it.

"Oh not to worry," said Bill, "I believe these two know enough not to push things too far. Mum just needs to stand back and not smother us so much." Harry only nodded at that, closing the door. "Harry's trunk!" He spoke, and knocked three times.

Back in Harry's bedroom, George re-shrunk the door. "Where do you want us to put it?"

"In the entry hall, I think," said Harry, "For now let's keep only one door here in the trunk. How easy is it for you to create another one?"

"An hour or so, now we know how to build them," answered Fred.

"Great. I'll pay you 100 galleons per door," said Harry, holding up a hand when both twins opened their mouths to protest, "Look. These things are EXACTLY what we're gonna need, and it's only fair I pay you for your work. It's not as if the fee will ever empty my vaults, right? Now… I think I'll put a door in my room at Privet Drive… it'll drive the Dursleys half-spare, but… I did promise my aunt I would protect them."

"Don't know why you bother, Harry, after the way they've treated you," said Bill, shaking his head.

"It's the right thing to do," Harry answered, "If I don't do anything and well… something happens… it's just something I don't want on my conscience. I've got enough on it as it is." A dark expression crossed his face.

"Harry. No bad thoughts," said Bill, gripping the boy—err—man about the shoulders.

"Right. We'll be off to make another door, then," said George, and the twins quickly left the room.

"Harry, I know what you're thinking. Everyone makes mistakes. That's what makes us human. We'd be concerned if you DIDN'T care."

"I know… it's just… eleven years. Eleven years of nightmares. I was out of sorts for a good portion of yesterday, and you know why."

By the time supper was ready, the twins had built two more doors, the first of which was placed at Privet Drive. For the second, Harry would need to speak to Dumbledore and make sure it would be all right to place it in the common room at Hogwarts. It was, after all, a potential security risk.

With supper out of the way, Harry then floo-called Neville. He had, after all, promised his aunt he would fix her gardens, and that had been something he had neglected—with good reason, of course. Nonetheless, a promise was a promise. Their discussion was brief, with Neville promising to drop by in the morning.

Harry then used the new door to step into his room at Privet Drive, and headed downstairs, where his aunt and uncle would most likely be at this time of the day. It was only fair he gave them warning another wizard would be about the property.

"Aunt Petunia?"

"What do you want, boy?" questioned Vernon, gruffly, "We're watching the telly."

"I know. I just want to let you know, a friend is coming by tomorrow to help out with the garden… A promise is a promise, after all."

"Well, don't… err… right, fine," Vernon muttered, "Just don't let… he better not be doing any of his funny business!" However, Petunia only spoke, "Th-thank you, Harry."

"You're welcome. And something else. Something very important," said Harry, his expression darkening, "There may come a time when… some of my lot will come here, looking for me. I told you about the wards when I first came home right?" Both his aunt and uncle nodded. "The wards should keep them out, but I really don't want to chance it. If you really value your safety and Dudley's safety, you'll follow my advice."

"And why… surely none of your freak friends could ever threaten us!" Vernon bristled. Yet, once again, Petunia was listening very carefully, and said nothing.

"Trust me, these people I talk of are no friends. They're the reason my mum and dad—Petunia's sister—is dead. They would think nothing of torturing and killing you if they thought you knew where I was. So if not for yourselves, for your son… there's a door upstairs in my room that wasn't there yesterday. Not just anyone can go through it on their own, but it leads to the place I've been spending most of my time so far this summer. Follow?"

"More freakish stuff? What did you do to our house?" Vernon was not impressed.

"Nothing I can't undo," answered Harry, "But it's allowed me to stay here while not being in your way, has it not?" Vernon had to agree with that. "Right. You'll see the door in my room, as I said. Speak, 'Order of the Corn headquarters', and knock on it three times. Then you can open it and step through. Once there, let someone know what's going on, because more than just your lives may be at stake. Promise me you'll act if you're in danger."

Petunia was far more receptive of Harry's words, and promised at once. Vernon, on the other hand, took some convincing on the part of Harry and Petunia, but finally he too promised, but only on the count of their son, so he said. Whatever it took, Harry got the intended result.

Once back in the trunk, Harry was able to let out a deep breath. The conversation had gone off better than he could have hoped. It seemed Petunia was a little more receptive of Harry's help than Vernon was, but that made all the difference in the world. Perhaps that thing about 'blood being thicker than water' was true.

He returned to his room, with intentions of continuing to study the journal he had borrowed from Dumbledore, but fate once again intervened, as he found both Bill and Cedric already in his bed, talking quietly between themselves. Both looked up with devious grins on their faces.

"What?"

"Well… we were waiting," said Bill.

"For you," Cedric finished. Harry knew at once he wouldn't be getting any further reading done that day.


	19. Progress and Departures

_Shout-outs to reviewers:_ _Himilika__. Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Neville helps Harry with his aunt's gardens; Harry convinces Neville's aunt to seek financial damages against the Lestranges;__ Harry is at last able to attempt to create a Room of Requirement in the trunk; Harry pressures Dumbledore to make adjustments to the security at Hogwarts, among other things… and Harry ends up making another trip against his will…_

**19:PROGRESS AND DEPARTURES  
Or, how Harry's summer comes to a close**

Harry woke early the following morning, as he had a busy day ahead of him. Even though he had asked Neville to help with Petunia's gardens, he certainly wasn't about to leave the fellow Gryffindor alone at the Dursleys'. That just wasn't fair in his books, and besides, it gave him a chance to connect with the shy house mate a little sooner. After all, his first time around, it had been in fifth year before he had really connected with the boy.

Just after 9 am, the floo fired, and Neville stepped out of the fireplace, carrying several bags. He looked around the room, appearing surprised at the way it was decorated. "This is your place, Harry?"

"My trunk, yeah. Let me get one of those," Harry offered, taking one of the packages off Neville's hands.

"Thanks."

"This way. I'd rather get the chore out of the way, then I'll show you around," said Harry. They walked into the entry hall, where Harry stood in front of a door and spoke, "No. 4, Privet Drive," before knocking three times. He opened it, and stepped through.

"How did you do that?" Neville looked confused, as he followed Harry though.

"Thank Fred and George, they did the work. They work much like the floo network, without the discomfort that goes with it." Harry gestured back through the door, which still revealed the entry hall in the trunk. "Now, do me a favour—wait…" Harry drew his wand, and tapped the trunk at the foot of his bed once. "Addendum, Neville Longbottom." The trunk glowed green for a moment. "Now," Harry grinned, opening the lid, "Watch this…" he climbed in and disappeared, only to appear in the doorway moments later.

"How? How did you do that?!"

"Come look," Harry beckoned, and so Neville stepped back through the door, to look at what Harry was pointing at. A ladder was built into the wall, and they could both see the ceiling of the room outside the trunk. "The door's much easier, though."

"I guess they go elsewhere too?"

"Two others right now, one going to… err… well… I can't actually tell you because I can't… the other goes to the Burrow. The twins were testing their creation, of course."

"Looks like you've been having a good summer, then."

"Somewhat. I mean, not without some misadventure, but Cedric's been great and… err… lots of changes as well."

"Right, of course," Neville grinned. He too, knew enough about Harry's relationship with the Hufflepuff. "Shall we?"

After introducing Neville to his aunt, the boys went outside, and began at once fixing up the front garden. Despite Petunia's meagre attempts at upkeep, the plants had suffered, and the summer heat had been relentless that year. Even with a bit of TLC of the magical kind, it would take a while for the plants to recover. Even today, while it was still early in the morning, the heat was bordering on suffocating, the air almost thick enough to cut with a knife. There would most likely be thunderstorms that afternoon.

Several times, while they worked, Harry caught his aunt peering out the front window, curious at what his nephew was actually doing. Of course, Harry knew, she was at war with herself, curiosity verses her distain for anything magical.

They spent a the good part of the day working over the flowerbeds, as Neville had brought along dragon dung fertilizer to mix in with the Muggle fertilizer, which Harry dragged out of the small garden shed in the back. They broke for lunch, then finished the front, and were about to move to the back yard, when a loud clap of thunder put an end to the activities. They barely had enough time to store things away before the sky opened up, big drops of rain pelting to the ground. They were both partially soaked by the time they stepped into the house.

"Looks like we'll have to finish tomorrow, if you have nothing planned?"

"Nothing I wouldn't be doing home," answered Neville. Harry gestured with his wand, drying both of them off quickly. "Legal adult status," said Harry, seeing Neville's questioning look.

"Oh, right, tried before the entire Wizengamot," Neville remembered.

"Come on, let's get back to my trunk," said Harry.

"I assume you will be coming back tomorrow?" questioned Petunia, stepping into the kitchen, gesturing at Neville.

"We didn't get to the back because of the weather," said Harry, "And I don't intend to work out there in this. But the front is done."

"It'll take a few days before the plants come back," Neville explained, "The weather this year's been far too hot. The care you've given them at least kept them alive."

"Give it a week, they'll look stunning," said Harry, "Neville knows what he's doing, more than I do, at least with Herbology." Petunia nodded stiffly, and walked away.

Stepping back into the trunk, they found Snape in the common room, again talking with Lily.

"'afternoon, professor," Harry greeted, while Neville looked at the potions master, uncomfortably.

"Potter… and Mr. Longbottom… good afternoon," said Snape.

"Come on, we'll go into the study," said Harry, leading Neville down the corridor.

The study gave Neville a second surprise, as Draco sat at the conference table, looking over a lengthy stack of parchment. Even more shocking, Ron and Hermione occupied a couch in the recessed portion of the room, and although a book rested between them, studying was not what they were doing.

"Bloody hell," said Neville, in a low voice, "I've stepped into a parallel universe!"

"And why do you say that?" Harry grinned.

"Well, Malfoy's sitting over there—" he gestured toward the conference table—"and Ron and Hermione are sitting over there—" he gestured to the couches—"and they're not about ready to curse each other."

"Oh. Well, that's already happened," answered Harry, although he grinned as he said it.

"Harry, what's going on?! What's Malfoy and Snape doing in your trunk?"

"A new arrangement, of sorts," answered Harry, "There are things you need to know, and I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" Neville nodded. "Great. Just wait here, I'll need to get my pensieve, it'll save my breath."

Neville sat back, stunned, after he exited the pensieve. Harry had shared two sets of memories: the first explaining his 'first time around', the second explaining some of the events that had happened recently. It was only fair, considering Neville had also been a strong ally the first time around. It would be no different this time around, if he had his way.

"Neville… I'll need to speak with your grandmother. I'll need her help."

"Right, of course. The Lestranges' vault."

"Yeah, something I've been meaning to ask, but as you can see, we've been rather busy up to this point."

"If I can borrow your floo, then…"

The morning paper two days later was indeed an interesting read. The front page featured a large photograph of the Longbottoms, with an inset of the younger family, obviously taken during happier times. The larger photo featured Neville and his grandmother as they left the ministry of magic, answering questions from the media.

_LONGBOTTOM SEEKS DAMAGES JUDGEMENT AGAINST LESTRANGES, STEMMING FROM ATTACK 14 YEARS AGO, by Rita Skeeter_

_Augusta Longbottom has filed documents with the Wizengamot seeking financial compensation against the Lestrange family, stemming from their involvement in the torture of her son and his wife. When asked as to why she has waited this long, Madam Longbottom only responded "An acquaintance of the family suggested we take action, and I am following their advice. It is the next best thing I can hope for, given they are already locked away in Azkaban."_

_Indeed, both Belletrix and her husband, along with his brother, are all permanent residents of the wizard prison, as a result of a long list of crimes perpetrated by all three individuals._

_However, this reporter does have to wonder, what do the Longbottoms hope to gain from this action? Surely, there can't be a better punishment than what has already been handed the culprits. Is this an attempt to grab attention, like another boy we know of? This reporter will keep abreast of this, and will keep you the reader informed._

Harry frowned, laying the paper on the table in front of him. Of course, Skeeter would have to take another swipe at him. Yet, she still had her uses, as this article proved. Perhaps this action would give others the courage to step forward and launch legal action of their own.

"Rather Slytherin of you, Potter," said Draco, plopping into a seat across the table.

"If it stirs people up, so be it. It's time the sheeple pull their heads out of their arses and stand up for themselves."

"Sheeple?"

"People acting like sheep, just following rather than leading. That's one of the problems," said Harry, taking a sip of his juice. "People know there are problems in the ministry, yet they just keep quiet about it, hoping someone else will say something. Just like the threat from Voldemort. Everyone expects me to do something about it, when it's EVERYONE'S responsibility. If it takes something subtle, a little bit of manipulation, then so be it, but people need to stand up for themselves. It's the same problem in the Muggle world."

"You do understand what you're against, Potter," said Draco, "Centuries of niceties and policies won't change overnight."

"Exactly. But we have to start somewhere. Otherwise, I might as well pack up and leave the country. Go park myself in a hidden corner of the world and let Voldemort take over. Because when I deal with him… without widespread changes here… another dark wizard will just take his place."

"And you would be right, Harry," said Sirius, striding over to the table, and taking a seat. "Each of his Death Eaters could easily take his place."

"My father included," said Draco, "Any member of the inner circle for that matter."

"You're having second thoughts about your father, then?" questioned Sirius.

"I've been doing some thinking, yes. I don't ever want… to be put in a position such as I was… well… as in what I saw in Potter's memories. My beliefs aside, I will never follow Voldemort, that is not my place."

"Will you help us sway others in your house? I know not everyone is a dark lord in waiting," said Harry.

"I make no promises. My place in Slytherin will be precarious as it is."

"If it becomes a problem, let Snape know, and we'll work something out."

"Why involve Snape?" questioned Sirius.

"If the other Slytherins saw me actually having a civil conversation with Potter…"

"True, wise idea, then," said Sirius, catching on at once.

"And you will have to keep up appearances," said Harry, "As irritating as that notion is, it's best not to let anyone on to any changes." Draco nodded at that. After all, it wouldn't be too difficult. He still had a long way to go before they would ever be even considered acquaintances, let alone friends.

"Draco, I need you to promise me something, though," said Harry.

"And that would be?"

"Don't call Hermione a mudblood. Or any other of my friends for that matter. That's exactly the kind of thing we're trying to stop altogether. I'm sure you can be insulting in other ways."

"I suppose. You have my word, then."

"Great. She is a smart witch, you have to admit that much," Harry grinned, to which Draco sneered, saying, "Don't push your luck, Potter."

The rest of breakfast passed quietly, although Bill and Cedric joined Harry briefly. Bill had to be off to Gringotts for 9 am, as he had transferred to a desk job at the London branch. This had happened the first time around as well, so Bill could assist with the Order. Of course, Harry knew, that was not the only, nor primary reason this time around.

Cedric, meanwhile, was off to visit with his mother in Ottery St. Catchpole, as he'd not spent a whole lot of time with his parents as of late. So, for the first time in some time, he was without both his boyfriends.

Of course, by no means was he alone. He could faintly hear the voices of the children he had rescued from Gatlin. They were all doing quite well, with the older children teaching the younger ones. Sirius and Molly were also giving a hand in that department, as were the twins every now and then—although their joke shop was the priority at this point. The two of them had left a little earlier for a visit to Diagon Alley, the 300 galleons he'd paid them already burning a hole in their pockets. 'Just as long as they don't blow up the trunk', he thought.

Without the distractions of others around, Harry once again turned his attention to the journal he'd 'borrowed' from Dumbledore. With luck, today he would actually get the Room of Requirement finished—it seemed every time he opened the journal, there would be some interruption or other.

Luck was on his side, and by late afternoon, he was standing in front of a blank section of wall in the second trunk, drawing a series of runes on it. He'd also had to go out of the trunk, and grab a handful of soil from his aunt's back garden. That left one final ingredient: blood from a magical creature. Dragon's blood was suggested, but there were other choices. Harry thought for a moment. A basilisk was certainly a powerful magical creature, was it not? He currently had a significant supply of it locked away in the potions supply cabinet in his room.

That problem solved, he returned to the lengthy formula. Using a dropper, he allowed a number of drops of basilisk blood to fall on the opening he had drawn on the wall, allowing it to drip down the front, and flow onto the handful of dirt he had procured from aunt Petunia's back garden. He had to grin at the thought. How would she react, knowing dirt from her precious garden was being used in such a manner?

With that step, everything was then in place. Now…

"Potter… what's all this?" Harry turned to see Draco, trying to understand the large number of runes written on the wall.

"You saw the Room of Requirement in my memories, right?" questioned Harry. Draco nodded. "I know how to do it… how to create one. If it works… well, the possibilities are endless."

"I might actually be impressed, should you pull it off."

"I'm just about done." Harry drew his wand, and began making an intricate series of motions at the spot where the door should be, all the while, hissing much like a snake. 'Parseltongue,' Draco realized. The large number of runes began to glow, shifting between various colours, to finally turn a brilliant white, then vanish, as did the handful of dirt, and the dripping of blood. Harry stowed his wand.

"Well, did it work?"

"One way to find out," said Harry, and began to pace in front of the wall, thinking, 'I need the Gryffindor common room,' three times, clearly in his head. On the third pass, Harry almost let out a whoop of joy, as a door began to materialize in the wall.

It was exactly as he had hoped. The magical room had created an exact replica of the Gryffindor common room, right down to the crackling fire in the fireplace, the numerous paintings and tapestries, work desks, and so on.

"I should have known," said Draco, disdainfully, as he followed Harry into the room.

"Well… you can change it, you know. What do you wanna see? Just focus real hard and the room will do it." Draco nodded, and moments later, the room abruptly changed to that of the darker Slytherin common room. Draco looked surprised.

"See? The room can become just about anything you can imagine… right useful the first time around," said Harry, "And it'll be even more useful here."

"I daresay, Harry, you've put my journal to good use." Both Harry and Draco turned to see the headmaster standing in the doorway.

"I did this before… using the same journal. I'm sorry I just took it, but…"

"Indeed, I had no doubt you would only be using it in an appropriate manner. You do realize there are things in that book that are quite dangerous in the wrong hands," said Dumbledore.

"I know sir, and again I'm sorry I just took it. But I had need."

"Which you appear to have done a more than amicable job. Harry once again you truly astound me at how powerful a wizard you are."

"I admit, Potter, even I'm impressed," said Draco. Just like it had mimicked the Gryffindor common room a few moments before, it was a spitting image of the Slytherin common room. "So you can make it into just about anything?"

"Yes, just about. I mean, it does have some limits, like, I don't know if we could ever make it into a Quidditch pitch, but… we did make it into some pretty big spaces." The room suddenly changed to become a carbon copy of the Quidditch pitch back at Hogwarts.

"I believe that answers your question," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling madly once again, "It indeed functions EXACTLY as the room at Hogwarts. I do wonder, how did you stumble on it in the first place?"

"Well, the first time around, when we formed the defence club, we needed a place to practice, where Umbridge wouldn't find us. It was Dobby who actually showed us. I know you've used it before… during the Yule ball last year."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore, nodding.

"And… it's always there?" questioned Draco. Harry nodded, saying, "Just not many people know about it. It usually only appears when someone has great need of it." Harry thought for a moment. "One of the things you might consider, sir, is having the room catalogued—the room of hidden things, that is. You remember what I mentioned about it."

"Where the vanishing cabinet was hidden," Draco remembered.

"Yeah… although I already removed it, along with Ravenclaw's diadem. Both are stored away safely… the vanishing cabinets might come in handy someday."

"Yes, truly remarkable magic, vanishing cabinets," said Dumbledore, "They were all the rage during Voldemort's first rise to power. A very convenient way to hide, should he or his Death Eaters come calling."

"But equally important, they can serve as a passage, as you found out before your sixth year, Draco. You were marked by then, as I guessed. Hermione, Ron, and I saw you and your mother go into Borgin & Burke's during our trip to Diagon Alley that summer. Has your mother been marked?"

"Yes," answered Draco.

"I guess I understand that. I know she didn't do so willingly. Snape showed me a memory of him taking an unbreakable vow with your mother, swearing to protect you."

"And help me kill Dumbledore," said Draco, remembering some of the memories Harry had shared with him.

"Yes."

"I swear it, I'll never do that."

"We know you won't Draco," said Dumbledore, "Everything Harry knew is changing."

"But for the better? I've only been back for a month or so, and I'm not sure I've done enough. Voldemort is still out there, and I KNOW he'll not stay quiet for long. Professor, in the sixth year, you significantly boosted the wards and security around the school. I need you to do it sooner."

"I believe that can be taken care of."

"And rather than needing to protect the door at the ministry like last time… have the Order patrolling the school."

"Indeed, sounds like a logical plan. If I recall, last time around we had ministry Aurors patrolling the school."

"But we can't depend at all on the ministry at this point, sir. We're right back at square one, with Fudge."

"And Umbridge with her Inquisitional Squad. I will find a way to discourage my housemates from… participating," Draco decided.

"Still no guarantee madam Umbridge will be teaching at the school, Draco," said Dumbledore, "I am still working to procure a proper Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for the start of term."

"God, even Tonks would be better than Umbridge."

"Alas, she has only just became an Auror, and so lacks some of the real-world experience required for the post."

"Better than no experience at all," Harry pointed out, "I mean, hell, I'd even take Snape instead of Umbridge."

"Professor Snape, Harry," the headmaster reminded, "Which would then leave me short a potions teacher."

"What about professor Slughorn? He'd probably be easier to track down and be more open to returning, without pressure from the Death Eaters."

"This is true, Harry. With that, I take my leave. I believe I have an old friend to visit," said Dumbledore, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He vanished with a soft pop.

"You'd actually accept Snape as our Dark Arts Defence professor?"

"I've got a ton of respect for your godfather, Malfoy. Even he's taught me a few things that saved my arse on a few occasions. Never mind the Occlumency lessons. I happen to know he's actually wanted the Dark Arts Defence position since he was hired." Just then, Dobby popped in, announcing, "Supper is being served it is!!"

"Thanks, Dobby," said Harry, "Come on."

Harry was surprised to find most of the Weasley family present in the dining hall when he stepped in. Only Charlie and Percy were missing, for different reasons.

"Hi Harry," said Ginny, smiling.

"Hi, Gin. Glad your parents let you finally come," said Harry, giving the youngest of the Weasley children a squeeze on the shoulders. Draco had already opted to sit at another table.

Harry, of course, made his way over to his usual table, where Cedric and Malachai already waited. Bill had decided to join his parents this night, and that was fine.

"So what did you do all day?" questioned Cedric.

"Finally got us a Room of Requirement," answered Harry, as if it were nothing.

"You what?"

"We have a Room of Requirement," said Harry, again.

"Harry, you truly astound me at times," said Cedric, shaking his head.

"What's a Room of Requirement?" questioned Malachai.

"A truly ingenious room that becomes whatever the user actually needs. Draco and I just tested it… it passed with flying colours."

"It sounds fascinating."

"The rest of the kids will get a great kick out of it I'm sure," said Harry.

"Malfoy's being decent to you?" questioned Cedric. Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, pretty much. I think he knows at this point I won't put up with any of his dragon shit."

"That's good to hear."

"So this room you made… it can turn into anything?" questioned Malachai.

"Well, just about. Of course there are limits… but I mean, professor Dumbledore did get it to transform into a Quidditch pitch. I didn't think it would, but… that's about the largest space I've seen come out of it."

"Hmmmm…" Cedric thought, "Perhaps we should have a go. I still owe you for third year, after all."

"Why? What happened in third year?" questioned Malachai. Harry sighed, and related the Dementor attack during a Quidditch match his third year, the only game he'd lost.

"Damn, you really can't catch a break, Harry," said Malachai, shaking his head.

……………………………………………………………………………………………

It was the night of August 29. Most of the month had been a blur of activity, as Harry continued to push forward with his agenda. He was still mindful of the eventual jump through temporal space that could come at any time, yet, there were things he needed to accomplish, one of those being the enjoyment of his friends and lovers.

Evenings of late had become somewhat of a tradition, where the magical children would all play Quidditch, while the rest of the trunk would watch. Given that there weren't enough to make two complete teams, they made do, and had fun anyway. Harry had even convinced Draco to join them, although in some ways it felt like pulling teeth. In the end it was worth it, seeing the blonde Slytherin opening up a bit and having some fun of his own.

On this particular night, Harry was just about to head off to bed, when he as dragged into the twins' room. Unbeknownst to any of them, the strange device sitting on the dresser in Harry's room came to life, a slight grinding noise coming from it. Bill looked up from his spot on the bed, perplexed. What was that?

"Harry, mate. We've been working more on the door system," said George.

"We think you'll like the changes," Fred added.

"Harry?" The boy suddenly looked disoriented.

"What's wrong?" Fred prodded, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder to steady him. His twin also did so.

"Guys… oh gods…" Harry's head felt like it was spinning, as he was struck with a strong bout of vertigo. He already knew what was happening, and before he could say or do anything, the world seemed to fall away. The fade to darkness, the tremendous roar, and then… colliding with a metal wall.

"Ow…" was all he managed, before darkness again took hold.


	20. The Ship Beautiful

_Shout-outs to reviewers:_ Kaja160, kehlencrow, and _zutarakid50. __ Thanks for your comments/reviews. Also, a shout-out to those who have added the story to your alert list, c2, or favourite list, it's almost as good as a review, 'ya know!_

_CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry has an encounter of the historic kind._

_

* * *

  
_

**20:THE SHIP BEAUTIFUL  
Or, a condemned ship gets a visit of the magical kind**

**February 22, 1950, Gareloch, Scotland –**

The sun had yet to cast its rays over the small community, but all was not completely dead, even though it was known as a place ships came to die. Only the day before, the ship-breaking company of Metal Industries accepted the Aquitania for demolition, and the great liner now rested at one of the berths: a spot from which she would be slowly and methodically taken apart over the next year and a half.

A number of lights still burned on the condemned liner, as light was still needed aboard while they removed her fittings and other items that could be sold intact. A skeleton crew maintained enough steam pressure to drive the generators.

The morning shift was due to arrive very shortly as it pushed onto 6 am, but the condemned ship still looked very much awake, a number of lights from her upper decks casting a warm glow on the chilly waters of Gareloch. Certainly, not as many as might have been on while she were still in service.

At 6:02 am, there was a deafening CRACK, much like a crack of thunder, and a flash of light which lit up the ship's forecastle bright as day. The small contingent of security on the site at once made a bee-line for the vessel, while workers arriving early for their shift only looked on in awe and confusion. The local authorities were also called, in the event they might end up with a fire; a blast such as that typically resulted in such, along with nasty injuries and deaths.

In a strange twist, no one seemed to be able to get up the gangplanks put across to the ship. It was as if there were an invisible barrier preventing them from passing. It was like… magic? But magic didn't exist! There HAD to be an explanation for this!

It took several minutes before Harry at last began to regain consciousness, as he became aware of someone prodding him. "Harry?"

"George?"

"What happened to us?" George finally managed. Harry opened his eyes, and was somewhat relieved to find both twins kneeling beside him.

"We… we warped through time. You haven't seen the trunk by any chance?"

"Err… well, we tried to get it down, but… it's… it's up there," said Fred, gesturing with his hand. Harry followed where Fred was pointing, up a long pole—or mast, Harry quickly realized. He could see the trunk, resting on some sort of platform.

"Great. Just great." He looked around. "I guess… I guess this is the ship Hermione told us about." He felt for his wand, and was relieved to find it still stuck in his belt.

"You should get yourself a holster, mate," Fred suggested, "You'll lose it that way one of these days."

"Not been exactly a priority," answered Harry, directing his wand at the trunk, stuck in the ship's rigging. "Good thing it's still dark… I'd rather people not see us doing this… Accio trunk!"

It took a few moments, but finally, the bulky item wafted from its position atop the rigging, and floated down to where Harry was.

"How does it follow you anyway?" questioned George.

"I don't know. But I'm glad it does. If not… I'd have been in a real situation back in Gatlin… and even now, this is all unknown to me. Guys, I need you to go into the trunk and get Bill and Cedric. Tell them it's urgent."

"We'll come back out as well," said Fred.

"Great. I'll wait here," said Harry, quickly opening the lid to the trunk. The twins climbed in.

A sudden, loud BANG drew the boy's attention from the trunk. It had came from the right side of the ship, and a quick investigation revealed why. It looked like the Muggle authorities had arrived, and were trying to force their way onto the ship. Not good. They would need a Muggle-repelling charm sooner rather than later.

Four loud POPs drew his attention back to the trunk.

"Harry!? What—we jumped through time again?" Cedric guessed, noting the change in location.

"Yeah. We're on the Aquitania, by the looks of it, and—" BANG! "—I don't think people are happy about it."

"Muggle repelling charms?" questioned Bill, quickly assessing the situation himself.

"My thoughts exactly, but… I've never cast one over such a large area. I'm gonna need more wands—get Sirius and find Remus. Give them an abbreviated story—we may not have a lot of time."

"I'll go," offered Cedric, and was gone before Harry could protest.

"Those floor plans Hermione managed to locate, I'll need those too—bloody hell, come on…" Harry vanished with a noisy CRACK. Both twins shrugged, and followed.

The trunk was almost chaotic, with so many voices talking at once.

"Harry? You're all right?" questioned Hermione. She and Ron had just come out of the study, following Cedric and Sirius. Sirius was on his way over to the entry hall, obviously to summon Remus.

"Guys!" Harry rose his voice, "Look, we've jumped through time—we knew it was coming, right?" Silence. "I need some help putting up a Muggle repelling charm. We know there's a reason I've been brought here, so let's just get it done quick as possible."

"I'll pull out the floor plans then—"

"No, we won't be going inside right this minute," Harry decided, "Bloody hell I haven't slept yet."

"Then why not just hide the trunk?" suggested Bill, "Something's obviously keeping Muggles away from the ship, correct?"

"True."

"Then let's leave it for now. I doubt the Aquitania's going anywhere in the next few hours. We can search for the box of documents once we're all rested." Just then, Remus stepped into the common room, looking a bit concerned. "Harry?"

"Sorry we disturbed you," said Harry, "We just jumped across time again."

"We did?"

"Harry, you realize what this means?" said George.

"What?"

"Our doors—"

"Work flawlessly!" Fred finished for his twin, and both began dancing around the room, making a spectacle of themselves.

"Right," said Harry, with a goofy grin, "I'll be right back, then."

Leave it to the twins to lighten things up. Harry had to smirk, as he apparated back outside the trunk. He quickly cast a warming charm on himself, remembering the reason he had been shivering for the past five minutes. It was bloody cold! And dark, come to think of it. Of course, then again, it WAS the middle of February, he realized. So of course it would be cold and dark! The sky was just starting to get light on the eastern horizon.

Harry quickly set about what he had came to do, manoeuvring the trunk under a set of stairs that looked more like a shallow ladder than anything. He cast a disillusionment charm on it, then popped back into the trunk.

"Done?" questioned Cedric.

"Yeah. Done." Harry gestured at the lid to the trunk with his hand, sealing it with a locking charm. "Just so no one can go outside here until I get some sleep."

"In that case, I'll let Dumbledore know what's happened," said Remus.

"Yeah, good idea," said Harry. Had this been eleven years prior, he would have protested. Yet, he knew now, Dumbledore was a strong ally, not someone who would work against him. "Tell anyone else you think should know."

"At least it wasn't quite as painful as the last time," Harry sighed, as he undressed. It was then his body let out a protest of pain. His right shoulder and hip both screamed out in protest.

"Rather colourful hip you've got there, Harry," Bill teased. Harry scowled at his second boyfriend, and gestured at the wound with his hand. It caused a moment of white-hot pain, but that, along with the ugly bruise that had formed quickly vanished.

"I can't get my shoulder, though. One of you mind?"

"Of course!" said Cedric, "Hold still." He gestured at the bruise with his wand. "Episkey." Harry again winced as the healing charm took hold. "G-great, thanks."

"Good, now come to bed," said Bill.

"Impatient, are we?" questioned Harry, with an impish smile, "Quiet, the both of you, or I'll sleep in the Room of Requirement." Both Bill and Cedric looked scandalized at the suggestion.

"Me too?" Malachai looked up from the text book he had been reading.

"Right. You're all mental…" Harry flopped down onto the bed, and let himself be sandwiched between his two boyfriends.

"No, mental is sleeping between two boys," Bill hissed playfully into his ear. "Not that I mind."

"Harry, what happens if we're not done here before September first?" questioned Cedric, thinking of something, "Last time you were gone four days or so, right?"

"I don't think that'll be a problem. If I need to be at Hogwarts, then that's what needs to happen. Let's get some sleep… I know tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

While the four boys—or men—attempted to get some rest, deep in the bowels of the condemned ship, near the steering control engine, a section of the floor glowed a brilliant yellow for several moments. Sometime later, the strange cylinder which had been stowed away securely in Harry's room also radiated a brilliant yellow for several moments.

Harry awoke much sooner than he had hoped he would. Light was blazing through the fake windows, and it looked to be late afternoon, if the shadows were any indication. Their room had a south exposure, as had been Harry's design, and so got the sun's rays for most of the day.

Nervous excitement quickly took over, as he quickly got up and got dressed. Bill felt Harry move, and he too woke, with Cedric waking shortly thereafter.

"Dress warm guys, it's bitter cold outside."

"So we noticed," said Cedric, grabbing his heavy bomber jacket out of the wardrobe. Both Bill and Harry followed suit.

"Warming charms are in order all the same, I think," said Bill, "As nice as these coats are."

As they opened the door, they found Hermione already there, about to knock.

"I was just about to let you know, breakfast is out."

"Thanks. But why didn't Kreacher or Dobby come get us?"

"Because it's not their job, Harry. It's bad enough you have them working here as it is."

"Hermione, we've been through this before," Harry groaned, "Look, I pay them pretty well for what they do here, and besides, they practically worship me as it is."

"That's exactly the point, it's not right and you know it."

"Hermione, I don't want to argue, not this early in the morning. Where's the floor plans for the ship? We'll be needing them soon as we eat."

"Fine." Hermione turned and stormed off.

"Bloody hell, what's eating her this morning?" Harry appeared confused.

"See, aren't you glad you like blokes?" Bill teased, "Imagine having to deal with THAT… err… every so often."

"Hey! She's one of my best friends!" Harry huffed, as it dawned on him what Bill was suggesting.

"Sorry."

Breakfast was a quick affair, after which the four of them retreated to the study, where Hermione had left the plans for the ship. They were 17 x 11 size paper, the first of which covering the ship's profile and the top two decks.

"This is gonna be a nightmare," Harry groaned, "There has to be hundreds of rooms for us to search."

"Muggle repelling charms will just attract the ministry of magic," said Bill, also seeing the enormity of the situation. "Let's just go have a quick look, at least figure out how big she truly is. I think our biggest problem is how to get her out of sight."

"Agreed," said Harry, "But… guys… what the bloody hell am I gonna do with a ship?"

"Whatever you like, mate," said Cedric, "To own something of significance."

"Stole, more like it," Harry muttered.

"No, remember what Hermione said," Cedric persisted, "Just imagine, no one in the world would have anything like it."

"So I'm to draw out 25 thousand galleons to purchase a ship that's obviously worth nothing more than scrap value?"

"Harry, remember, there has to be a reason we're here. It has to be more than the ship," said Bill, as they collected the plans off the table. Harry still clearly had his doubts, but the group once again apparated back outside.

Standing beside where the trunk would be had it not been hidden, the four of them at last could get a real sense of how big the Aquitania truly was. The very front of the ship seemed to be over a hundred paces away. It looked to be at least four or five storeys up to the windows of her control house, or bridge—as he remembered reading the term somewhere.

"Where to?" questioned Bill.

"Up there," Harry decided, pointing at the windows at the very top. "Not safe to apparate, we'll have to get up there on foot. Wish we could just use our brooms, but… too many Muggles around." Harry cancelled the disillusionment charm on the trunk, then began climbing the steep flight of stairs that led up to the next deck—'B' Deck, if he remembered the plan correctly. They stopped at the top of the stairs, taking the opportunity to peer over the side. "That's a ways down."

"And the water would be bitterly cold," said Bill, "I would know." Harry had to suppress a shiver, just thinking about that. "Let's see the plan again. there should be—"

"Hey! You! Stop!" came an amplified voice, carrying up from the dock below. Harry put a thumb to the side of his neck, whispering, "Sonorus…" he then said, "Don't mind us! We're just having a look, we won't break anything!"

"This is private property!" came the voice, "The public isn't allowed in here! How did you get aboard anyway?"

"Questions I'm afraid I'm unable to answer, sir. We'll not take up too much time here." He then whispered, "Quietus."

"Harry! Don't provoke them, we don't know how they might react," Bill warned.

"Best we keep out of sight, then. Where next, we need up to the next deck."

"Through these doors, I think," said Cedric, gesturing to a set of doors to their right, and consulting the plan, "Should be a set of stairs right inside." He pulled on the doors, but found them locked. Harry only gestured with his hand, and there was an audible 'click'.

Indeed, directly inside the doors and to their right, a flight of stairs led to the deck above. They quickly scrambled up, and found themselves looking out over the deck three floors below, where the trunk was stored. They went to consult the plan as to where the next set of stairs might be, but found they needed not. The flight of stairs was directly behind them, leading to a space not on the plan.

"Must've been added after," Harry guessed, as he climbed the stairs to this new deck. It was here the group was again reminded of the enormity of the Aquitania. The ship seemed to go on into infinity, at least as far as Harry could tell. He'd been on a few ships in his life, most of them while dodging Death Eaters—but none of them came anywhere near the size of Aquitania.

"Come on. Let's see what's in there," said Cedric, "That's where you wanted to go, right?"

"Right," Harry agreed, and the group made their way over to the door leading into the ship's bridge—the place where the ship was commanded from. At least, that's as Harry understood it.

The room was lit quite well by the waning light of the afternoon sun, making the large number of brass instruments sparkle.

"It feels… almost sad," Harry noted, running a hand across one of the many instruments.

"The ship's known magic," said Bill, copying Harry's movements, "At least a few witches and wizards have been aboard at one point or other."

"Doesn't surprise me, I guess," said Harry, "Just because someone's magical… doesn't mean they'll stay in the magical world. Tonks' mother for example."

"Yes, quite right," Bill agreed, "But we're off track here. Why did you want to come in here?"

"We'll put the trunk in here, I think," said Harry, moving to touch the ship's wheel, still bolted to the mechanism that controlled her steering. As his hand touched it, a yellow bolt of magic crackled about, almost lifting the boy off his feet.

"Harry?!"

"Merlin's Balls!" Harry shouted, his heart almost leaping out of his chest, as he gripped the wheel for support. Both his boyfriends were behind him at once, steadying him. "Harry? you all right?"

"F-fine. It's just… it's exactly like the cylinder… FUCK ME!"

"Harry?"

"It… the box isn't what we're looking for. We're here for the ship!" He pulled off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose like he'd seen Snape do so many times.

"Mate, that's not making any sense," said Bill.

"No, it makes perfect sense! We were there when that cylinder sparked the way it did," Cedric reminded, "This…" he gestured around him, "—just did the same thing."

"But… all those parchments the box held… where did they go?"

"They're likely still on the ship somewhere," said Bill, "So we'll still need to search it."

"Let's go tell the others."

"Let's," Harry agreed, "I'm bringing the trunk up here though," he declared, gesturing with his hand. "Scourgify." Everything instantly became polished, and good as new. A second wave of his hand, and the air seemed to abruptly warm, and they could no longer see their breaths.

After placing the trunk on the ship's bridge, they all apparated back into it. The common room was empty, but voices wafting from the corridor let Harry know where everyone was.

"Dumbledore is here as well, dear," said Lily, from her portrait.

"Thanks, mum," said Harry, removing his jacket and dropping it on a couch. The others did the same, and they quickly made their way into the study.

"Ah, Harry. I gather you've made another temporal jump?" questioned the headmaster.

"Yes sir. If the date and time are right, it's February of 1950."

"But like I said, sir, we're still in our own dimension," said Hermione, "The documented evidence is unquestionable."

"And I know the WHY… as in, why the ship vanished. It's like Ron said, WE do it."

"And why do you need a ship such as this?" Remus gestured to the copy of the plans spread out on the conference table.

"I don't know. But… I think the container we're looking for… it IS the ship. The container, or box, or whatever was holding all those pages of parchment… it's gone. Remember what happened when I touched the cylinder?" Nods from most around the table. "Well, just a minute or so ago, when I touched the ship's wheel. The same thing happened. A yellow arc of magic shocked me. Both Bill and Cedric saw it."

"But Harry, did you notice something just before we left?"

"No, why?"

"You said something about, a sad feeling in the air."

"Right."

"Just before we popped back in here… I felt that change," said Bill, "It felt… hopeful."

"A ship can't feel!" Harry snorted, "Bloody hell, it's a Muggle object made of wood and steel. It's no more alive than my wand—"

"Ah, about that," said Dumbledore, "Perhaps you don't know as much as you think about that sort of thing."

"What do you mean?"

"During your duel with Tom the first time around… How do you think the wand knew you were its true master?"

"So you're saying… an inanimate object can… take on some sort of sentience?"

"Not unheard of," said Bill, "Some of the things I've encountered in Egypt have been rather startling, I'll say that much."

"But… why?"

"That, I don't have an answer for, Harry," said Dumbledore, "But with the right circumstance, the right kind of magic, who knows? As much as I have saw in my long life, there is always things to see and learn."

"If it starts talking to me… you can check me into St. Mungo's, I think."

"Better than Voldemort talking in your head, mate," said Ron. That earned the boy a swat from Hermione. "Hey!"

"Like that'll ever happen again," Harry snorted, "Last time he tried something like that it was rather painful—for him, that is."

"I must ask, how strong are your mental defences, Harry?" questioned Dumbledore.

"Strong enough that Voldemort won't want to hang around long should he ever get the opportunity to visit. I have a way of making his visit rather uncomfortable."

"Ah, good to hear then."

"I just hope they'll never be tested. I've wasted so much of the summer, when I should have been chasing after Pettigrew and Nagini. Now, I won't have that chance until Christmas at the earliest—unless I miss time at school, which I'd rather not. I do want to actually sit my OWLs this time around." Just then, Fawkes appeared in a flash of golden flames. He carried with him a scroll of parchment. Dumbledore accepted the parchment, while Harry quickly conjured up a decent perch for the animal. He trilled happily and lit over to it, while Dumbledore read the correspondence. He let out a sigh. "Educational decree twenty-two has just come into effect," he declared.

"Which means?" questioned Ron.

"It means the ministry will place Umbridge at Hogwarts," answered Harry, "Fine. Fine and good, we'll see." He gestured at himself, converting to his adult appearance—he'd been using his younger appearance for the past week to get used to the idea. "That woman's already crossed me once this time around. I dare her to do it again," Harry hissed.

"And you'll be expelled the first chance she gets," Hermione hissed back, "You can't!"

"She won't know who it was. I promised I will protect the students, that's the other purpose of me going back."

"Sir, you're just gonna let him do it?" Hermione pleaded, "What if he gets caught?"

"Ms. Granger, you do realize expulsions do fall under my authority and my authority alone? Given the extensive amount of information Harry has given me, I don't see any reason for interfering in whatever plan he might come up with. In light of what is happening at the ministry, it might be best I DON'T know." Dumbledore plucked a lemon drop out of the tin which rested in front of him, and popped it into his mouth, while Hermione glared at Harry.

"Trust me," Harry answered, "There are a few things that will be different this year."

"Yes, right, back to our current situation," said Remus, gesturing at the plans laid out in front of them.

"Right. The question now, is how we take a ship as big as she is… well… back to the present… and worse off… where do we hide it?"

"I strongly doubt our world will have too much concern about it. It would be the Muggle world we would need to hide from," thought Sirius.

"Even though the ministry conducted an investigation into the ship's disappearance?" Hermione pointed out.

"A bank draft was left with the company who bought her, was it not?" Remus reminded.

"Yes, but…"

"Clearly something wasn't done correctly. There should be a further document to go along with the payment," said Dumbledore, "Perhaps a visit to their offices might be in order. Determine what sort of documentation would be appropriate for such a transaction."

"It makes sense," said Hermione, "Muggles are extremely careful when it comes to large transactions. Typically there's a lot of red tape."

"Red tape?" questioned Ron.

"A lot of paperwork and complications," Hermione clarified.

"Not unlike some aspects of ministry," Dumbledore added.

"Either way, it's something we'll need to sort out, and quickly," Harry decided.

"If I might borrow your invisibility cloak, Harry, leave that business to me," Remus offered.

"Great." Harry looked at the map that was laid out on the table. The yard seemed to have very few buildings, with just a single long berth, at which several ships lay. The map only drew an outline of each, but Aquitania clearly dominated the scene. A series of labels also dotted the area, with a concentration around three locations on the dock.

"They're a determined bunch," said Bill, noting the gathering.

"Question is, what's keeping them out? We didn't have time to cast any charms on the ship."

"Maybe the ship's protecting itself," Malachai guessed.

"But why?" Harry challenged.

"Maybe when we showed up it stirred something," Bill guessed, "Maybe she was woken up by our presence."

"Indeed a plausible explanation," said Dumbledore, "Do look at it this way, just the same. What you are dealing with is far easier than the challenges you've already faced, Harry."

"I guess. It's just confusing."

"Look at it this way, prongslet," spoke James, from a second portrait his parents now occupied, "Your home will be most certainly unique."

"Even better than Grimmauld Place," Sirius added.

"You would be able to take your home just about anywhere," George pointed out.

"But I can do that already," Harry rebutted, "Never mind the fact she's UNIQUE. Memorable. I might as well paint a bull's eye on my back."

"Harry, you're forgetting one thing," said Lily, "You're a wizard. You have a lot of resources to make sure that doesn't happen."

"I guess."

"Never mind the fact the ship has most likely bound herself to you."

"Like my trunk," said Harry, thinking. That was most likely true. Which meant… "Bollocks! What happens the next time we jump? A trunk's bad enough… this… she has to weigh thousands of pounds!"

"Things such as that will most likely sort themselves out," answered Lily, "Particularly should she actually be sentient." Harry thought about things for a few moments. Sure, it was a nightmare. Yet, perhaps he could make use of it. "I need a few people to come with me and help cast a Muggle repelling charm. See if we can't at least keep them off the dock and away from the ship. Then we can have a look around, see if we can't locate that stack of parchment. I'll also need to make a trip to Gringotts and get a Muggle bank draft."

"Why don't you go ahead and do that?" Cedric suggested, "I think we can make our way around with the plans we have." He gestured at the pages of paper on the table.

"I'll come with you in that case," Bill decided.

Using the door in the entry hall, they travelled back to Grimmauld Place, then through the floo to the Leaky Cauldron.

"I'm still amazed at how talented your brothers are," Harry grinned, as they activated the entrance to the alley.

"Talented, yes," Bill snorted, "Far too much mischief for my liking."

"Just wait. Next summer, they'll have a shop just down the street," said Harry, gesturing to a vacant building not far down the alley. "The Wizarding world can use a good laugh now and then, I think."

They travelled in silence, with the crowd around them paying little attention to them—Harry was still wearing his adult appearance, and got only a few scowls from it, rather than the swooning and grovelling he normally got. That suited him just fine.

They stepped through the doors to Gringotts, and Harry approached the first available teller. "I need a Muggle bank draft," he announced, sliding his key across the counter.

"Indeed?" the goblin sneered, "For how much?"

"125,005 British pounds," answered Harry, as the goblin made a gesture at the counter. A form appeared in front of him, and as Harry stated the amount, it appeared on the form.

"There will be a five galleon fee for this transaction, Mr. Potter," spoke the goblin, "Totalled, 25,010 galleons will be deducted—from which vault?"

"The family vault, please. I'd rather keep my trust vault separate for now."

"Very well then." The goblin slid both the bank draft and the key back across the counter.

"Thank you. May your vaults overflow with gold," said Harry, getting a look of surprise from the teller.

"And to you, Mr. Potter. Good day to you, and to you, Mr. Weasley."

They wasted no time returning to the trunk using the same way they had come, then, after Harry had retrieved his map, they apparated back outside the trunk.

"You know, if you're taking her with you, maybe you should ask Fred and George to build another door. It would make it easier," Bill suggested.

"I'll mention it to them."

"Harry, don't look a gift-horse in the mouth. You realize what kind of history you're standing on, do you not?"

"I guess. Hermione's certainly reminded me enough times. I guess I'm just not that interested, when I've got much larger issues hanging over my head."

"But that's just the point. You have something here to take your mind off that. Harry, you need a hobby. Something to put your energy into, other than worrying about trying to please everyone, or trying to save the world. And judging by what you did in here… you could restore her to pristine condition. Be the envy of… well, a great number of places."

"I need a hobby," Harry deadpanned, again resting a hand on the ship's wheel, "Bloody hell, what would Voldemort think if he ever heard that? The boy-who-lived needs a hobby…"

"I know, it sounds ludicrous, but—"

"It's bloody ridiculous!" Harry blurted, and burst into gales of laughter.

He finally recomposed himself, taking the time to glance around. The sun had just set, and it would be dark soon. "Let's see where the others have got to." He conjured a small table, and spread the map out on it.

"Will it be able to see all her decks?"

"It should," Harry answered, looking the map over. "What would be truly amazing is a three-dimensional map. But that's something I have no clue how to pull off—this map was enough of a challenge as it was." Suddenly, Fred and George appeared with a single loud POP. "Excellent, you're back. Harry, you need to come see this," said Fred, while his twin nodded vigorously.

"Lead the way," said Harry, with a shrug, snatching up the map and banishing the table.

The four of them vanished with a CRACK, to land in a space that clearly had very low head room.

"Forgot to mention, watch the head," said George, while Bill rubbed the back of his head after inadvertently bumping it on landing.

"Well?"

"I bet this is the steering room," Bill guessed, gesturing to two very long metal rods running into a dark hole. In front of them, was a massive machine that seemed to take up most of the room.

"What did you want to show us?" questioned Harry.

"Put your hand on this… this spot right here," said Fred, gesturing at a part of the floor. Harry knelt down, and placed his right hand on it, and immediately felt a strong, warm pulse of magic surge up his arm. By no means was it threatening, or painful. It was almost… welcoming. As if it were greeting him. He had touched ancient magic before. What powerful witch or wizard did not at some point in their life. What really shocked him, was the thought that flashed through his mind, 'Protect me now, and I shall protect you when the time comes'.

"What?"

"We didn't say anything," said George.

"Err… never mind," said Harry, withdrawing his hand, "There's something there… I just don't know what it is."

"I think whatever it is, it's happy we're here. What were you guys doing in here anyway?"

"Exploring the ship, of course," answered Fred, "This looked like an interesting place on the plan."

"We figured out how to get here," George finished, "This is as much fun as Hogwarts!"

"Guys, be careful. There's places that might be dangerous," Harry warned.

"Never mind the fact there may be workers aboard," Bill pointed out.

"They might be of some help," Harry thought, "It looks like, no matter what, she's coming with us. Don't know how, but…"

"We'll figure it out," said Bill, "Now let's get back outside and cast those Muggle repelling charms, before the Muggles get more creative and figure a way onto the ship."

The twins once again apparated them back outside, where the group then stood on the stern. Sirius, Ron, and Hermione were also there, and his godfather was already casting a charm at the dock.

"Well?" questioned Hermione.

"Got it," answered Harry, "Where's everyone else?"

"At the front. Dumbledore's gone to a spot somewhere in the middle. We're casting Muggle-repelling charms, among other things," answered Sirius.

"So that's all well in hand, then?"

"Well under control," said Sirius.

"Guys," said Harry, turning to the twins, "Since it looks like I'll be keeping the Aquitania, we'll need another door made."

"We'll get right on it!" said George, giving Harry a sloppy salute. They both vanished with a POP.

"Have to say, mate, it puts your trunk to shame in some ways," said Ron, "Even Malfoy's gonna be shocked when he sees it."

"Ron, it's not about that though. I'm really trying to get along with him. I need his help, whether we like it or not." He looked over the side, just in time to see a large group of people gathered at one of the gangplanks suddenly scatter. The Muggle repelling charm had just activated. Minutes later, a number of individuals were seen leaving the closest gangplank.

"One thing that worries me. The Muggle repelling charm will affect the children in the trunk if they come out here," said Harry.

"We'll remove it once we're able to," Bill suggested, "Probably best we not have too many of our own people out here as it is."

"True." Just then, all the lights went out.

"What happened?" questioned Ron.

"Expected," said Bill, "The people leaving were probably keeping the electricity running. We'll have to do it ourselves."

"And possibly electrocute yourselves in the process?" Hermione pointed out.

"That's what magic's for," said Sirius, "Until we can understand how things truly work."

"Let's get back to the trunk for now, then," Harry suggested.

They found Remus already seated at the table in the study, looking over a massive set of drawings. "My adventures in the company offices was fruitful, as was my visit to the original owner's office, where I came up with these."

"Gods, they're huge," said Harry, moving to stand behind Remus to have a look.

"Engineering drawings, much more suitable than those small copies we've been working from. More importantly, they also contain a number of changes not referenced on the ones we had."

"Excellent. What about documentation?"

"I managed to make copies from documentation on another ship they had recently purchased. I believe substituting the relevant information will take care of things quite nicely."

"Thanks, Remus. This helps loads," said Harry. Dumbledore then appeared in the door, and said, "I do have to get back to Hogwarts. I need not say to all of you, do be careful."

"I know, sir. Thank you for your help."

"I was glad to, Harry. And I should be by sometime tomorrow with your book lists and so on."

"Thank you sir," Harry said again, and with that, the headmaster was gone.

That night, as he slept, Harry had not the horrid dreams he was known to have, but instead, glimpses of a past life: the life of a ship. Places, ports, and people. Thousands of faces from people whose lives had been touched by the ship on which Harry's trunk now rested, and a simple phrase to describe her: "The Ship Beautiful".

* * *

_AUTHOR NOTES: So once again, Harry is dragged through time, although this time not through dimensions. Still most inconvenient, no? At least he isn't dealing with a demon this time around, or anything truly dangerous. That means we won't be 'here' for very long. Another chapter and Harry will be back where he belongs. The repercussions of his visit here, of course, will be far-reaching, so stay tuned!_

_The chapter title pays homage to one of a few nicknames the Aquitania had. Others included "Aristocrat of the Atlantic", "World's Wonder Ship", or, affectionately by her crew, "Granny". I find the last one rather amusing._


	21. Author Note

**AUTHOR NOTE**

The dreaded author's note. I hate them, and I know you do too… however, it's only fair I should post some sort of announcement as to the fate of "Temporal Boundary Invasions".

This particular version of the story, although it was entertaining to write, has a few issues. Namely, in hindsight, the incursion into the "Children of the Corn" movie-verse didn't work all that well, as a few readers have commented. Now, I'm not by any means caving to the whims of the few. That's ludicrous. It's only a reflection of what 'I' believe, and I do most certainly review my work as I write, reflecting on the material already produced for the current work. I do retain the right to revise and re-post, which is what I'm doing.

So, I'm taking the story in a different direction, although retaining a few elements from this one. Look for "HP and the Temporal Boundary Invasions RELOADED, for a revamp, and continuation. Those of you who have been faithful readers, hope to see you there!

(this story will be marked as complete for now, but likely removed in the near future)


End file.
